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Monthly Archives: July 2015

We Made it to Colorado!

Well, another month’s gone by. I didn’t intend it to be one without a blog post, though. It just turned out that way, starting with illness at my last campsite.

I wasn’t feeling well starting the Wednesday afternoon following my last post. By Thursday night, I was experiencing enough stomach pain where I decided I had to go to an ER. As an aside, Garmin sucks! I picked the first hospital on the list, which is supposed to be closest. Garmin chose to calculate the distance as the crow flies – directly over Toledo Bend Reservoir … as if I was going to get there on my James Bond one-man rocket pack. It said 19 miles.

I hit 15 miles, telling myself, “You can make it … only four more miles.”  We made the first turn and heard Garmin say, “proceed 27 miles …” GEEZUS! I nearly passed out 3 times because of the pain. Was hoping a cop would see me, but that never happened and I wound up making it to the ER around 1am. They diagnosed diverticulitis (something I had a minor bout with about 10 years ago), gave me a prescription for antibiotics and sent me on my way. One other thing – the nurses took good care of Frank while I was inside, they had to tie him up to a tree outside due to regulations, but they kept taking turns going out there to give him water … and one of them kept taking photos of him on her cell phone to assure me he was okay.

Two acts of kindness to note. First, the man at gas pump across from me on Friday morning after being released, who put $20 in my car when my debit card wouldn’t work in the pump (I since found out that I needed special dispensation from my credit union to use it as a credit card in Texas. Long story, but whatever). I asked for a business card so I could send him the $20, but he refused … and suggested I do the same for someone else down the road. (“Down the road” turned out to be at a gas station on the outskirts of Amarillo. I struck up a conversation with a young guy who as it turned out, had just gotten off his night shift and was heading to a day job. He did that so his wife could work afternoons and evenings and he’d be home with the kids. He got the $20 “pay it forward” benefit. Took some doing, but he accepted.)

Second act of kindness was the camp host at Toledo Bend. He came by on Sunday morning, having found out from one of the rangers about my midnight drive to the ER and chewed me out for not coming to him. “That’s what I’m here for – I’d have gotten you to a hospital in 20 minutes, and my kids would have looked after Frank! You’re not alone, my friend. There are lots of us in this camping community. All around the country … and we take care of each other. Please promise me that you won’t do anything like that at any of your future campsites!!!” I thanked him and made the promise.

I was pretty worn out the remaining 5 days I was at Toledo Bend, just getting over the stomach problems. Tearing the campsite down was a bitch and we wound up getting into Livingston, TX about 3 hours later than anticipated. Over the next 1 1/2 days, I met with the attorney, got my car insured, inspected and registered in Texas and got my Texas drivers license. Funny thing was that I was the only person in both the auto registration office and the Dept of Public Safety office (for the driver’s license – the first time I’ve not gotten both done at the same place). I was done by 2pm on Wednesday and went to pick up Frank at the grooming salon. At least ONE of us looks presentable! :o)

Act of kindness #3 – Shawn, the attorney who’s associated with Escapees is doing a bit more legal work for me than domicile. He’s prepping a new will AND offered to step in and work on my escheatment issue in California, where he’s also licensed to practice law. His fee is a fraction of what he would have charged someone “walking in off the street,” to use his phrase. The payments won’t kill me, either. He also took great care to tell me about the Escapees home base they offer, where you can go to live after you’re no longer able to be on the road. He poohed-poohed the fact that I’m tenting, saying that there have been many instances where people no longer use some of the RV’s that are there and either sell them on the cheap or, as a couple of people have done, just given them away to someone based on need. He also encouraged me to get active in their Forums. “Jeff, there are people all over the country who have helped fellow SKPs on the road. You’re not alone out there!”

Two reminders in less that a week – “Jeff, you’re not alone.”

We headed up to Dallas on Thursday, arriving around 3pm. It took me over 90 minutes to find my hotel, despite the fact that I lived there for 10+ years, had come back for visits (albeit, the last one was in 1997), and the hotel was nearby my old stomping grounds. Garmin was no help once we got to a point where a major interstate intersection was closed for work … it kept sending me around to the same place and finally punted. I had to go “old school” and look at a map at a gas station!

Frank had his final two injections for heartworm on Friday and Saturday. I had to drop him off by 7am and wasn’t able to pick him up until after 5pm. He had a rough go – both nights he was in tremendous pain, actually wincing and crying out when I accidentally grazed his lower back. I wound up carrying him to the car both nights after his treatment. I also put him on the bed and took him off when it was time to go outside for his constitutionals. (The good news is that by Tuesday of the following week, he was feeling better. As of this week, he’s back to his old self. He’s even been prancing a little in the morning when we leave the tent in the morning and isn’t happy that I have to reign him in for the foreseeable future.)

After dropping Frank off, Friday also saw me at lunch with four old high school friends. We sat and talked for 3 hours. I hadn’t seen most of them in almost 25 years. Same thing on Saturday morning, when I had breakfast with another old friend from high school, Michael Risser, followed up by a luncheon our class had arranged, where more than 25 people showed up.

I have to say that I didn’t expect it all to be so stressful, but my anxiety level had been incredibly high since arriving in Livingston. I have to acknowledge how tough it was to see everyone. I know at a head level I was the only one who was aware of my own “uncomfortableness”. The guys all let loose on Friday afternoon (Rusty even called a girl we went to high school with because it was her birthday – Nancy now has a voicemail of the five of us singing a three-and-a-half part harmony of “Happy Birthday” that drew raucous applause from all the others in the restaurant). We joked, told stories, remembered shit we did back almost 45 years ago. But the whole time, I was very self-conscious of the fact that I was the only “dropout” among them. Saturday brought more of the same. It’s very hard to explain. Shame is a horrible thing. That’s about all I can say.

Sunday the 19th saw us hitting the road again. But not until I had to backtrack about 15 miles at the outset because I realized I had set my walking stick up on the cargo carrier while I was putting stuff into the back seat and hadn’t put it back in the car. Sure enough, it was lying in the parking lot when I got back to the hotel. Somewhere though, a maid or somebody has come across my sunglasses … and the usb cable that connects up the camera to the laptop so I can download photos!  I wasn’t as fortunate with those items.  The sunglasses have been replaced.  I’ll figure out what I’m doing to replace the usb cable shortly.

We stayed in Memphis, TX and Colorado City, CO on Sunday and Monday nights. Frank took it hard when I told him this was his last time on a bed for a while … that it’d be back to the tent the next day. BUT …

When we arrived last Tuesday at our first campsite (the one we were originally slated to stay at), we discovered they did not put in the eletric hookups in the tent area like they said they were going to do.  So I had to find new accommodations. While scrambling around for about 90 minutes, calling different places and not coming up with anything affordable, the thought came to call my next stop in Pagosa Springs. Sure enough, TJ said my site was free and to come on down. I told him we’d arrive the next day. Frank and I drove down to Pagosa Springs that evening and booked a night in an old 50’s-style motel, with the motor court and the little rooms. We did set-up the following afternoon.

The camp itself is magnificent. It’s small, incredibly-well maintained and beyond my wildest expectations. We have a lot of room in our own campsite, right next to a “river” (in name only – right now, it’s nothing more than a speedy, babbling brook) that provides us with the most beautiful music you can imagine. The nights have been down in the low 50’s … I’ve even had to put on sweats and socks to keep warm. What a delight after being subjected to all the heat of the south before arriving here.

So that’s where we’re at. Frank and I have been here at The Last Resort, just south of town for a week, as of today. We have done absolutely nothing … well, unless you count making objects out of the clouds as “nothing”. We did manage to take a long drive yesterday to see a bit of the countryside, but today, we’re right back in camp. Relaxing. It’s taken this long but I finally feel at ease a bit … certainly more than I have since the first week in Georgia. I’ve been able to push off the anxiety and depression that had been following me since that last week in Toledo Bend. Another old high school friend, Warren (who recently relocated to Colorado Springs) said it best when I spoke with him on the phone last week, “Jeff, you’re finally at the place where you’ll get what you started out looking for – no heat, no other setup work to finish, just peace and nature.” Warren, I couldn’t have said it better.

I’ll do better with my blog posts now that we’re situated. I have zero phone service here (a big red “X” on my power bars) and spotty wifi service. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to post a lot of photos, once I figure out how to transfer the photos from the camera to the laptop, that is. But I’ll do another post this weekend at the latest.

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Posted by on July 29, 2015 in Travels

 

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A Look Into Our “Man Cave”

“So what’s it like living in a tent?”

That question has popped up, posed by a few of my friends.  Yesterday, I finally took the time to snap a few photos of the inside of the tent, so you all can actually see where Frank and I have been living for the past month.  I took four photos – two from outside the tent looking in to each side of the back section; and two shots of the front section while sitting on the bed. The “sides” I mention assume you’re standing in the doorway.  You can click on any of the photos for an expanded view.

rear right

Tent, view #1

1. Right side, rear of the tent

I have a queen-size airbed made by Coleman and I have to say that it’s been incredibly comfortable.  It’s sitting on a king-size comforter for insulation, so there’s a bit that sticks out in the front for extra padding when I’m sitting on the floor and leaning up against the bed.

In the middle of the right side tent wall, you’ll see my “closet” … a stack of Space Bags with my clothes, towels and extra bedding.  (What you don’t see is my machete, which probably gives me more mental security than what it would actually provide if push came to shove and had to use it for defensive purposes). I usually throw my camera bag there, too.

rear left

Tent, view #2

2. Left side, rear of the tent

This is “Frank’s Place”.  His bed and cushion sit at the head of my bed.  He really doesn’t like to sleep with me anymore.  I think downsizing to a queen bed put him in a position where he had to dodge my legs in the middle of the night too much, so he’s decided it’s better to either sleep on his bed or sprawled out on the insulation comforter in front of my bed.

His food and water is next.The aqua colored flooring is an additional tarp I put down inside the tent. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but that tarp makes teardown a lot easier … I just gather all four corners together and then pull it out of the tent – along with all the dirt, bugs and other crap that’s made it in despite my best efforts to keep it / them out.

The windows all zip completely up.  I leave them down as much as possible.  Frank’s discovered that he can turn the bed into a fully functional, 360 degree lookout tower when the windows are down.  Here at Toledo Bend, he’s been particularly taken by the motor boats, which have to pass by our hill as they leave the boat ramp  (we’re a little ways from the lake, but the view through the trees is pretty nice).  When he hears one, if he’s not already on the bed, he’ll jump up and position himself in the one corner that gives him the best view of the lake.  He’ll watch it as far as he can and then turn to me as if he wanted to say, “Man!  Was that cool or what?”

front left

Tent, view #3

3. Left side, front of the tent

The front corner is my “hamper” … dirty clothes find their way there, behind the tower fan and guitar.  The middle wall is where the supply boxes have found a home.  They also act as my entertainment center.  The cardboard box has a bunch of cords for the SirusXM, the wifi extender and the like.  Oh yeah, there is one pocket on each wall.  This one has my car keys and the hand-crank lantern I use at night.  The one on the other wall is where I store my headlamp.  Thanks to my buddy Larry for suggesting that, by the way.  It’s been incredibly handy, especially when taking Frank out for his night time “constitutional”.

The power cord is 100′ long and stretches from the power box at the end of the driveway.  I have an extra 25′ one that you see on the floor here.  I used it in Georgia, when the picnic table was close enough to the tent for me to simply connect it up and leave it in the tent.  Here at Toledo Bend, I’ve had to physically move the cord outside when I’m sitting at the picnic table, but it’s really not been that big of a deal. And by the way … the green tint to the photo?  That’s not an added effect – there’s a green tint in the room.  That’s the result of the sun coming through the rain fly.

front right

Tent, view #4

4. Right side, front of the tent

My one box of foodstuffs sits right inside the door for easy access. (There’s another waterproof supply box that I leave on the picnic table bench, under the canopy … it has all my kitchen stuff.) That’s where my shoes and walking stick are parked when inside, too.  The grey flooring is a tent carpet.  There’s just enough tarp left exposed at the front of the tent to catch any dirt that I’ve not been able to wipe off on the “welcome” mat that sits outside the door (or that Frank’s not been mindful enough to shake off before coming inside.  I keep reminding him of that, but he keeps telling me, “You know I have no idea what you’re saying, right?”)

There’s not quite 100 square feet of open room left for us to stretch out in – there’s about 10 feet from the edge of the bed to the front door and the tent is 10 feet wide, so it’s 100 square feet less the space occupied by the stuff on either wall.  It’s been great.  About the only thing I’d like to add is an inflatable chair … if I can find a heavy duty one that can support my weight.  I have to tell you this – Frank and I spent a night in a hotel this past Monday. It wasn’t the bed or the hot shower (that you didn’t have to walk a mile to take) or the television that was the most welcome luxury. It was the easy chair!  You have no idea how wonderful it was to sit in a soft, comfortable, padded chair after either sitting in a car … or on a tent floor … or on a picnic table bench.  Frank went right for the bed.  I spent almost 2 hours just sitting in that glorious chair!

So that’s it.  That’s our “Man Cave”.  On the whole, it’s been pretty comfortable for the two of us.  I’m glad I decided to move up in size from the 8′ x 12′ tent I was going to buy. Here’s hoping it lasts a long time before needing replacement.

 
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Posted by on July 2, 2015 in Planning

 

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The First 30 Days … What I’ve Learned

Another week’s gone by. Frank and I have picked up and moved again. From now until July 14th, we’re at South Toledo Bend State Park, almost 20 miles due west of Anacoco, Louisiana. The site itself is wonderful – it’s the biggest one we’ve had yet. We have a view of Toledo Bend Reservoir through the trees, although we’re a little ways from the water edge and can’t walk directly down to it. The site’s surrounded on 3 sides by trees and bushes, but we’re nowhere near as isolated as I felt we were at Chickasabougue Park, our last “home”.  It’s sort of a cross between the last two parks – more proximity between the campsites, but more shrubbery so you’re not right on top of each other.

The park’s 55 campsites have already begun to fill up for the Fourth of July holiday, although the spaces immediately around me are still awaiting their tenants. I expect to see new neighbors this evening … tomorrow morning at the latest.

frank storm

Here’s Frank, during yesterday’s storm … in the back corner of the tent, underneath his bed.

We’ve had nothing but thunderstorms the last week. They seem to have followed us from Alabama. Frank’s had a real tough time of it, despite a little help from the valium. Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of a pretty intense cell … the winds blowing the tent made me feel like I was experiencing a 6.0 quake back during my days in San Jose, and the thunder was unrelenting for about 20 minutes or so … Frank gave me a look as if he was saying, “If you tell me ONE MORE TIME that, ‘It’s just rain. We’re okay,’ I’m going to bite you!” NOAA says we should have a respite for the next week though, so knock on wood that happens.

Anyhow, back to the subject at hand: We’ve been on the road for over a month now. In some ways, it seems longer than that. But in reality, I almost feel like I’ve been taken out of time. I’ve just been experiencing the days individually. I find that I’ve lost track on several occassions as to what day of the week it was (apologies to my buddy Eric, who’s had to endure me missing a couple of our regular Tuesday morning phone calls). I don’t have my laptop on all the time, nor am I really looking at emails that much on the phone, which hasn’t helped in that regard.

IBut now that Frank and I have been camping for over 30 days, I’d like to share some of things I’ve learned.

1. Planning only gets you so far. Yes, there was the one issue with Meaher State Park not being as advertised. That’s the obvious thing. But other things have cropped up, too.

Because of the heat, we’ve spent more time in the car, so I can keep Frank cooled down. The side benefit is that it’s reignited that “love of the road” I’ve always had. The day trips we took in Alabama were wonderful … not just for where we went, but for the feel of being out on the road! Frank’s enjoyed it – he’s alternated looking out the window and taking naps in the cool a/c. I’ve discovered he’s infatuated with big rigs. He’ll hear one coming from behind and turn around in the seat to watch them roll by. Funny – you’d think that as fearful as he is of thunder, that would translate to being afraid of the noise, but that’s not the case.

Doing the day trips has had an impact on my budget, though. I’m way over on the gas and food allowance, having done a bit more fast food than intended. I didn’t cook a single meal in Alabama. I’ll need to fix that, otherwise I’m not going to be able to survive on just my Social Security money.

The cooler hasn’t done as well as originally intended, either. I’m having to buy ice at least every 3rd day. Not a big deal, but I’m a bit disappointed. Hopefully that improves once we’re out of the southern heat.  I also had to buy a tower fan to help with deal with that heat  Thank the Lord I was able to find room for it in the car along with the other gear I started out with.

Other than that, everything else has been more or less according to plan as far as the supplies and gear I thought I’d need.

2. I like the solitary life. I cant say that I’m not lonely … but I’ve felt lonely most of my life, even in the midst of family relationships. This is decidly different from being locked up in an apartment, however.  It’s not just me and Frank. There has been an abundance of animal life around us and I have enjoyed being a casual observer of all of these creatures.

I have to engage people more with this lifestyle, too. Much more so than confining myself to an apartment and ordering food in. There are people walking by with their dogs … who invariably stop to chat when they see Frank wagging his tail at them. Then there are the rangers who stop by on occassion, the store clerks, and other miscellaneous people I’ve come in contact with. But I like that I can engage them on my terms knowing they’re going to be gone and I won’t have to deal with them again. I feel a little sad, acknowledging that. But I think that’s something I’m acknowledging at a conscious level for the first time.  I guess it’s a matter of trying to “trust” again, despite always feeling like I’ve been kicked in the teeth whenever I’ve let my guard down in the past.

I know I feel more at ease. I can sit and enjoy the scenery with Frank without worrying about anything else that has to be done or what anybody else expects me to do.

This period of having zero responsibility (other than taking care of the two of us) has been magnificent! I can sit and watch all the activity going on around me and enjoy it. As I type this, a cardinal has come over to sit on a branch a few feet away … and I can actually take a few moments to watch him withoyut feeling like I should be doing something else! Yesterday, I stopped the car because a big turtle was crossing the road. I let Frank out to look at him and it was hilarioius. He didn’t know what to make of this big, moving box with legs. I wish I had my camera in the car with me … it would have made for quite a shot! A jet black squirrel lives nearby, too.  I’ve tried taking a picture of him, but he’s just been too fast for me.  Funny, the only place I’ve ever seen one of them has been in the Colorado Rockies.  I didn’t know they lived oustide of that region of the country.

3. I am a creature of habit. To a great degree, I’m still “me”. I’m messy. I don’t do a very good job taking care of myself. I don’t like “chores” and put them off as much as I can. But as I said in an earlier post, this lifestyle has put me in a position where those things can’t build up and become so big as to add to my anxiety. You can only be so messy if you’re having to pick everything up and move every two weeks. I’m getting more sleep than I was. I’m back to fixing meals since arriving at Toledo Bend, if only because there’s no other options out in the boonies.  I’ve lost at least 35 pounds, possibly 40, since setting out on the road, so that’s a good thing.  At least the “mindless eating” habit has been addressed.

4. I’m able to handle my anxiety a bit more. The attacks still come, with horrible frequency. They’re mostly confined to night now, when I’m lying in the tent without the distractions of television and the internet. I’ve had to cut my internet usage quite a bit since leaving Georgia. Neither this site or the last one offers usable wi-fi so I had to up my data plan on Verizon to accommodate that. I have 6GB of data, but am jealous of how I spend it. I haven’t visited any of the gaming sites that used to occupy up to 4-6 hours of my day.  The good thing is that I don’t miss them.  Not a bit.

I’ve taken to the breathing exercises I used to do and they’ve helped to some degree with the attacks.  Larry’s had to put up with a few more evening phone calls, too. Frank, as usual, has been a Godsend. He is right there in my face when he senses that an attack is underway. I don’t know what it is that I give off, but whatever it is, he senses it. I wish that I could do a better job returning the favor to him during thunderstorms.

I have made an interesting observation though. When Frank’s having one of his “terror” attacks in a storm, there’s nothing I can do to help him. He refuses any comfort. He doesn’t like me holding him on my lap or petting him. All he wants to do is get in the furthest corner of the tent and lay there (as you can see in the photo a little further back in this post), with his heart and breathing going a mile a minute. The thundershirt and the valium only go so far.

That’s the way my attacks hit me, although I suppose they’re “inner” thunderstorms. And despite all the logic that man’s been blessed with, I’m not better than a “dumb animal” is when one of those attacks hit. Like Frank’s valium, the breathing exercises only help to a degree. I am completely consumed when I’m in the middle of an attack.

Frank helps me, by “being” there. That’s all he has to do. He doesn’t offer words (they don’t do much good anyhow). He’s just there until I calm down. I’ve taken to doing the same for him. The last couple of days, I’ve just laid down next to him in the middle of the thunderstorms and put my arm around him. I try to breathe slowly, hoping he picks up on the rhythm so it might help to slow him down.

frank after storm

Here’s Frank about 45 minutes after the first photo and after the storm’s ended. “Storm? What storm?”

One thing Frank does a LOT better than me. He recovers nicely. Once the storm’s been over for a few minutes, he stands up, goes over and takes a few swigs from his water dish and then heads either back to bed for a nap, or over to the door of the tent, wanting to go out. As if it never happened. I’d LOVE to be able to recover like that! Maybe as time goes on …

5. Southern summers are almost as unbearable as Nothern winters.  This has been a tough month.  I’ve had my fill of heat and humidity.  It’s almost got me to the point where I’m entirely re-thinking my plans for next year.  Not sure if Tennessee and Virginia are the best places to spend my time.  I may be completely disregarding the East Coast and heading west sooner than anticipated. Next summer may find me in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  I’ve never been there before … Frank will be fully recovered by then (again, knock on wood) and there’s some pretty good fishing up there.  In general though, the whole “climate change” thing has me a bit concerned.  I’m worried now about what it’s going to be like along the Texas Gulf Coast next March.  Am I going to be dodging major flooding like what Texas has had to endure over the last few months?  Granted, because of the domicile thing, I’m going to have to frequently return there.  I’m just wondering how that’s going to work out.

6. I’m still very political … but thank God I’m jealously guarding my 6GB of data. Given the uproar on my Facebook feed over the two most recent Supreme Court decisions, I might not have survived sitting alone in an apartment in Charleston. I’d have been in the midst of all the uproar over the ACA (aka “Obamacare”); arguing about how heterosexuals have done more damage to the “traditional family unit” than homosexuals ever could; and spewing my own venomous opinion on Scalia’s and Thomas’ suitability for the highest court of the land.  But I’m not.  I’ve been forced to let it all go.  Hopefully I get to the point where that continues even when I do have suitable wi-fi!  ;o)

7. Re-establishing my faith in mankind has gone easier than expected. An interesting thing happened this morning. I was up at one of the very few “service” facilities here at the camp. The closest one happens to be undergoing renovations, so there’s only one bathroom / shower … and they’ve decided to alternate times for men and women. Yeah, that works great, by the way – YOU try telling my digestive system, “Well, it’s women’s hour now, so you have to wait until 11 o’clock before you can use the toilet.”

As I’m trotting up, a fellow came out of the laundry room and I laughingly said, “PLEASE tell me it’s men’s hour!” He looked at his watch, then the sign, and laughed right back: “Alright! You’re safe! Let me get out of your way!”

After coming back out I saw him sitting in the laundry room with his wife and thanked him for the use of his watch. (As an aside, I need to find a farmer’s market and buy a couple of head of lettuce. I think I’ll just eat them whole – this lack of roughage in my diet has given me a newfound respect for natural childbirth!)

Don and I then struck up a conversation and when that’s happened before on this trip, the people I talk to immediately want to know all about what I’m doing. But this conversation was different in that for the first time it wasn’t all about me! When I told him that I was tent-camping, he showed me the tent in the back of his truck, mentioning that his daughter and son-in-law were joining them for the Fourth … and that they didn’t know they were going to be sleeping in a tent instead of his RV. We talked about “easy up” tents and how he and his wife started out tent camping before buying their RV. Throughout the conversation, we were able to “talk”. It wasn’t just an inquisition about my plans.  And that felt very good!

At one point, he finally asked, “So what made you decide to take this trip?” I can’t remember exactly what I said. In all honesty, I’m sort of ashamed … still … of the reasons why. But I know at the end, I said, “I guess it boils down to me just wanting to find a little peace.”

Don said, “Well, I don’t know if you’re a God-fearing man, but I’d like to say that there’s really only one way you’re going to find peace in this world.” I started to tear up. Had to hesitate for a minute. All I could say was, “Thank you. Yes, I know that. I guess this is what I have to do to get a little closer to Him.” He smiled and said, “Well, I will pray that you’re able to find the peace you’re looking for. Life is hell when you don’t have it.” (Tell me about it.)  But here was a guy who quietly offered a thought … in complete juxtaposition to the hateful rhetoric that has been spewing from various segments of my facebook feed.  Granted, we weren’t talking about any “hot” issues, but it was a very quiet, non-imposing and caring comment to make.

We talked a little about church and it turns out we’re both Catholic. He said, “There’s a prayer I don’t know if you’re familiar with – it’s called ‘The Prayer of Abandonment to God’s Providence’ …”

I was stunned. For about 5 years, I started every single day saying that prayer as part of my morning meditation, and told him that. Don suggested that maybe I could take that up again. Sounds like a good idea.

My Lord and my God; into your hands I abandon the past and the present and the future, what is small and what is great, what amounts to a little and what amounts to a lot, things temporal and things eternal. Amen..”

 
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Posted by on July 2, 2015 in Musings

 

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