An astronomical number of animals, insects, and sea creatures have vanished from the earth over various eons. Some disappeared because of human actions and I grieve their loss. Martha, the last of passenger pigeons whose flocks darkened the skies as they flew over died alone in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914. Then it is presumed that an asteroid hit the earth, changed the climate and wiped out dinosaurs. Do you lie awake a night wishing for a mastadon in your back yard? Seeing a dodo would be interesting, but I may have had trouble finding a golden toad even if one still inhabited its special environment.

Yet, I am doing my part in preserving butterflies, mostly monarchs. Two days this week, hope of spring came to my front yard as the dipping orange and black hillexes moved from one early cone flower to another. They are at the moving north stage and just seeking nourishment. An article in the paper says that their number is 22% less than last year. The cycle has always included wintering on seven acres of trees in Mexico. The number of acres this year was 5.5. Not only have I seen pictures of the laden orange trees with row after row of folded wings lining a branch, we had one group choose to overnight on a bush in our neighbor’s yard at another Swift address. Three children and I sat is silence as one by one they settled in for the night.

About thirty years ago, hatch and release became my passion. I learned to plant milkweed, their plant of choice to sip some nectar and later deposit their eggs. I would lift leaves carefully to find one small milky dot that would evolve into a tiny black/white/yellow striped larva or caterpillar that grew as the leaves that housed it diminished in its small arc-shaped nibbles. I gathered and kept in a pet box and could watch them grow dark and change into a pupa to finish the transformation. When I could almost see through the transparent shell the time was neigh for a new butterfly. Some of you adults were at the ranch for Thanksgiving when I brought a box to watch them emerge, dry, and then walk onto your outstretched finger to be released outside. The facial response of the releasers is breathtaking from kindergartens who whisper, “I won’t hurt you,” to jaded sixth graders who want it to be their turn next to adults who have never thought of the life process.

In my church’s welcome center is a large banner various women needle pointed with noted Christian symbols. I did the butterfly, a symbol of resurrection. “Just when the caterpillar thought life was over, it became a butterfly.” Many changes come along the way and one final awaits.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here.

2 Corinthians 5:17

Even acknowledging the fact that the information may be fake, false, or not the most up to date, part of my budget goes to two newspapers to hold and scan. The ink covers my fingers imperceptibly until it leaves a smear on the side of my coffee cup. I went to Barcelona for a week and left the world to turn on its own, yet the morning of re-entry I settled into my rocking chair and ran my eyes over headlines and noted local dates that I might need to add to a paper calendar I keep, another anachronism of time that is part of the soul I call myself.

Blame this need on my childhood. Besides gossip, various newspapers were the source of what was happening where. My first newspaper was The Hammond Vindicator, founded in the early 1900’s by the Campbell family who lived catty cornered from us on Church Street. It’s pages were reports of interest to Tangipahoa Parish from the Police Blotter to actions by the Town Council. Local tidbits were written by the older Mr. Campbell in a column called “The Stoller.” These were two sentences ranging from who was replacing their front door to what family was seen catching the train to New Orleans for a day in ‘the city.’ My high school English teacher wrote features of interest and did social reporting. My wedding had a picture and a two column report. I have no idea how the issue arrived, except the Tuesday/Thursday question was “Have you seen The Vindicator?”

Two bedrocks of our day were the plunks of more substantial papers landing on the sidewalk. We never had a paper boy, just a man who drove his car around town in the early morning and afternoon. The Times Picayune was, and as far as I can tell, still is the print copy of New Orleans. The first copies came out in 1837 when a silver Spanish coin worth 6 1/2 cents called the picayune was in circulation. Some major national stories might make the front pages. Mostly people who could pronounce them read about the Robichauxs in Plaquemines parish and problems with drainage ditches and week-end car wrecks. All that was enough to satisfy subscribers until the Baton Rouge edition of The Advocate arrived about 4:00 with comments from the capital: be it corruption or chosen political action. My memory is that its other focus was updates on sports, especially what was coming up at LSU.

Now. Houston used to have two papers, plus the Press, which served its own dubious group. In 1995 the Post merged with the Houston Chronicle. This left me very sad, mainly because I respected Lynn Ashby, senior editor, and a columnist Leon Hale. So, these mornings I check The Chronicle and the Wall Street Journal. Before you judge, remember we didn’t have a television until I went to college. Nor did we have one in our marriage until my father-in-law decided that our four and three year olds were abused children. I like to read and reread and see literally if I really understand. Some days I have to chase rabbits to get the story straight. My children, and maybe you, read digital subscriptions to East Coast papers on i-pads while feeding the dogs. A picture and sound bites may be worth the thousand words. Instead of remembering the rapid clipped comments after some recent 5:00 report, I’m offering the last paragraph of an op-ed piece to rest my case.

God have mercy, we ask. Lord have mercy, we plead. But then we must learn to act — to heal wounded hearts, to bear one another’s burdens, and to address the terrible scourge of violence that scars our land.

Hum, not the best title. It was the most difficult literary term I taught eighth graders. On their level, it is the word or phrase or happening that most people recognize and it has nothing to do with illustration though even in May some still tried to answer an essay question with a drawing. In recognizing moments of spiritual import to various religions I can nod my head to Ramadan, Diwali, Passover, and for me more personally, Christmas, Lent, and Easter. The word becomes a trunk to support branches and leaves as a deeper expansion of knowledge is added. My Easter base was a formula to know: The first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox. That sentence ties the celebration to a day of the week, the historical connection to Judaism, and a season of the year. Wednesday, April 5, a full moon lighted the sky pinpointing April 9 as the designated day for 2023.

As always, symbols can add or distract depending on how they are offered or, in some cases, how much money is generated. In a far off time, Easter eggs were dyed only red to represent blood. Not in my day. Dying was a mixture of home made dye and then buying packets. My favorite memory is clipping comic strips and transferring to the egg. Hunting was a lot of running around, someone getting a prize, and eventually an egg throwing contest until some grown-up stepped in to stop it. Easter lilies and butterflies can tie to new life. Rabbits and chicks are just cute and sound like a good gift idea temporarily. New clothes are supposed to bring luck. Truthfully, the time had come to prepare for another season and Easter is an acceptable time.

All that aside, Palm Sunday to Easter is my most meaningful week of a year. I don’t have to decorate the house and a meal together is a pleasure – and may vary from picnics to linen napkins. Activities involve children, music, gatherings for worship at times that are part of predefined schedule. The darkness when the symbolic Christ Candle is blown out at a Service of Shadows opens the way to real rejoicing when light leads the way down the aisle to a full voice congregation singing, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today!” Soon after creation, the allusion began to be noted and it moved to a glorious celebration when Jesus on earth said, “It’s time!”

⁵¹ As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.

Luke 19:51

The answer is , “Yes, I did see the Sagrada Familia!” I didn’t realize how many people I know who have been to Barcelona and the imperative was ,”You have to see….” How can you miss it? Even at a distance of 2.6 miles from our hotel, the 15 towers cut into the sky. You can find all information you need from a rabbit chasing search and a capable tour guide to navigate the crowds gawking (no other verb will do) at the towers at the Sagradra Familia. I was properly awe stuck by the building, though I still have questions about construction even after seeing the match-stick sized man doing work midway up a current tower. And then there is the man Antoni Gaudi, the visionary architect who left his mark all over the city until 1926. Our tour guide had a sentence that bought the vastness of his primere work to a live with size for me.”The outside is all sculptures of the story for those who don’t read, and the inside is the glorious light of God for all people.”

Two more Gaudi constructions. One was to look at houses of the :”rich folk” in the Gothic part of the city.The tops were eye-caching. Each building is eight stories. The living in part starts on what we would call the second floor and fhe windows are large so you can view what is special inside. The other floors are rented with each layer of windows becoming smaller. Gaudi’s private home had seaweed iron work decorating each window balcony and the view from the roof was breathtaking with one set of roof ornaments maybe being the inspiration for Star Wars soldiers.My most favorite creation was the Parc Gaudi – a real estate failure. A man wanted to sell forty lots to make an exclusive subdivision. The project was too far out of town and finally Gaudi was told, ‘Make a park.” It is quiet and shady and had a plaza or soccer field where I could sit while others walked in the woody areas. It had lovely undulating benches decorated with tiles he got for free from broken bits at a tile company.

Then these are the tidbits that defined the city for me. All corners have been cut off so one could see carriages approaching. and turn without having to cut too short. That means in 2023 with a little adapting by drivers, a stop light is not necessary at every corner. The marina with sailboats was right across from the hotel at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. I am used to a ferry ride in Galveston with the other side visible the whole trip. A ferry ride from Barcelona to Mallorca is 7.5 hours. You can do it overnight if you wish and the advantage is you have your car when you get there. Oh, yes, the unloading lane at the hotel is decorated with maybe 100 plus large terracotta pots stacked four high and planted with succulents. I may have a few comments left for another time. While you are waiting, you can choose from 20 flavors of ice cream by just crossing the streets to the La Gelateria de Leonardo operating since 1957. Blessings of sights, tastes, sounds, feelings, and smell are given to us at every turn. Welcome them!

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I rise on the wings of the dawn, If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

Psalm 136: various

This week is a little like a bookmark , holding my place for what has been happening leading up to and being in Barcelona until today. I was amazed at the number of you out there who have had a B., Spain experience and guaranteed my enjoyment of the visit and provided a list of “you will love” things to do. However, ( remember that word) the trip has opened a need for preparation, travel requirements, and reEntry to new requirements after aging as a homebody. So this week is offering you at the moment requirements and next week more of what eye has seen, ear heard, and heart opened to.

First, the trip was demanding. Rising early with that list checked was only the beginning. Business class sounds like an upgrade. Not so for me because it required separation from my “ baby blanket,” my backpack. Since it had to be stored overhead, a lifter down person had to be recruited for anything from toothbrush, to book, to meds. Twenty-four hours which warped through six time zones dumped us out in España and delivered us to a very nice hotel. Waiting for rooms to be turned over for our family carried a weary me to my next to last straw. Hooray for a nap.

Second, after being with people I know by name, I had two who were close to me and seventy- seven others from various far places. Most of them had at least a same employer connection. I was a green stripe guest along with babies and teens. In the way of a new classroom the first day of school, I read a few names from name tags, shared mine, and opened those connections of likes or talents that tie us together.

Lastly, space does become familiar. Use of my tech required adjustments. My son-in- law’s i_pad charges in my bathroom but not his. The view from my window encompasses some sites we’ve seen and the route to others in the future. After Houston, the weather is a delight, though locals want rain. Above all, I am at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea, a body of water vast enough to be called the middle of the world and am in Spain, a far reaching hope for Paul’s journey. Next week, what are the gifts of Barcelona.

I am planning to go to Spain. Romans 15:24

I guess that’s a good a title as any, I’ve been sitting here in my Girl Scout mode trying to decide how to tell you about my organized self getting ready to go not just to San Antonio overnight, but to Barcelona for a week. All I can think of is stories about my two most loved people in the world for whom preparation was only a four syllable word. Both have been met by angels to ease their way to heaven, so you can just shake your head without embarrassment. The dear husband’s idea of being ready was to stand at the foot of the bed at 4:30 in the morning before he left for the airport and say, ‘Honey, got any spare cash?” He would be gone all week and was carrying an all purpose saddle case with toothbrush, socks, and a pair of underwear. After all, if he needed anything surely New York had some place that sold it and he didn’t like waiting for luggage to arrive. My best friend from the fourth grade and only bridesmaid in my wedding was a petite pageboy blond whose very utterance of, “Ohhh,” called forth a line of boyfriends and me to see if we could help.

Then there is me. I was raised by a mother who managed to have in her purse whatever from an umbrella to a clean linen handkerchief. Between her training and my natural inclination to be a list maker, I rank right up there next to the post office delivery for not being deterred by weather, or schedule changes, or even something to snack on. One begins at the most distant point out and and works toward D-Day. It is Tuesday and my dining room table has two file folders with information for dealing with taxes when I get home. Balancing the far corner are all necessary travel documents from tickets to passport. This morning I bought small zip-lock bags and in the next quiet moment I will count and label pills. After all I am at what causes doctors to say, “At your age.” and I don’t know about Spanish Walgreen’s.

Thank goodness for Wunderground that reveals more about the weather for the week than I may need to know. An early morning temperature of 48 strongly suggests an available outer layer and at least two long sleeve turtlenecks for someone whose springtime is bumping against summer. Not being a strong turtle, I’m a minimalist of carrying with me. If I can’t manage by myself, that it doesn’t go. For the next two days the suitcase will be open. Clothes go in one day and out the other until a zip up early Saturday. I will be gathered by a daughter and a son-in-law who has already supplied me with Euros. Adventure awaits and I know the phrases for finding a bathroom and my hotel. Like the Israelites of yore, I will have finished my banana. I will be attired in comfortable shoes and appropriate clothes. No staff, but a new walker is ready for ease of walking and availability of sitting. Check! Let’s move out!

Now you shall eat it in this manner: with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste.

Exodus 12;11

You’ve had them. The kind of days in the life of Garfield the Cat that everything goes wrong as far as he is concerned. Owner Jon lets the cat bowl get empty. The mice gang up on him. He is accused of shedding hair even in the toothbrush. The only solution in some cases like that is to curl back up in a cat box and sleep it off.

Monday threatened to be like that. I wrapped up Sunday and went to bed with a doable list for the next day. I arose, but my get up and go was dragging its heels. First thing, the coffee brewed clear water. The night before I had taken step one and had walked away before the important step two of adding coffee was accomplished. Morning routine was pushed back while I regrouped. Then I moved to the NYT Mini Puzzle which wakes up my brain and three of the clues were current culture that required my looking up the answer. I thought just eating cereal would help except I missed the bowl and spilled a pint of blueberries on the floor. By then bed seemed the only solution. Head touched the pillow and the phone rang. It was a robot call reminding me of a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. Push 1 to confirm.

What’s the solution to a day like that? I called on HOWEVER, and that turned what was happening around. However is one of twenty-seven words called Conjunctive Adverbs that help make six different changes in the relation between clauses in a sentence. STOP! Do not run off. There is no test. I am mentioning this particular one because it brings hope to what is going on and offers a manageable outcome.This is how it works. The pot only offered heated water; however, I was able to start over and have coffee in just a few minutes. The puzzle had clues not in my life knowledge; however, the internet helped open up my remembering another word. Blueberries rolled over the floor; however, I gathered them in a sieve, washed them off, and all was well. The mantra for rescuing a world falling apart is to state the problem and then say,” Semi-colon ;however, comma” and look for a way to repair.

I did go back to bed and about 9:30 I was able to face my list and ended up with a productive day by my standards. That doesn’t mean the ups and downs won’t happen again, maybe on a Thursday. However, (see how easily it comes to mind) I did have an option. I could affirm a poor me mode or I could see if my bootstraps were strong enough to help me stand upright. They were! The apostle Paul looked at his collection of days and drew the same conclusion, just stated differently.  

I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. 

Philippians 4:11 – 12

That active verb sounds so simple. Ater the slow wobbly start of children, the motion becomes intuitive. We use the motion to transport ourselves without focusing : going several places, carrying objects to relocate, ignoring surroundings, and then reentering our world away from where we started.

Coming to confidence in walking arrived slowly for me. Gangly was the best adjective for my appearance with long legs and arms and a dubious sense of balance. Strategies like learning to cross the left arm over the body when the right foot goes forward still has to be consciously chosen. Running had/has no speed to note and I had to channel Snoopy the Beagle to keep it up. He would chant to himself,” Foot pick up. Foot go down.” Checking for cracks that even slightly offer the chance to stub a toe is part of the process.

Forget the standard of 10,000 steps to perfect heath. For my mid-life crisis, I mastered circling Rice campus across the street from the Rice Blvd. house in time to shower and make it to teach a first period class. That was an all time high of 6, 6667 plus or minus steps. Eventually that number has been enough to keep heart beating at an acceptable rate and blood flowing to nourish and restore cells. Two age related happenings slowed me down. Eighty-six years of streps stressed a vertebra and requires limiting daily effort. Eyes aren’t feet, yet stepping forth with clear vision does make a difference.

Comment on the last day of February. If I haven’t mentioned, I am going to Barcelona,yes, the city in Spain. This will be a March trip with members of the family. While I won’t eat late night meals, I will need to arise and be ready for adventure as a day demands. In mid-January, I started my own improve going forth regime. WSJ warm up exercises, a base distance that counts as minimum for a woman of my age, and some tack on steps just for strengthening. If you choose to sit in the bleachers and clap as I round the curve, I may not stop to acknowledge, yet I will appreciate the attention. This very morning I took a no turning back until you get there walk to have breakfast with a neighborhood friend. Thirty minutes was required; however, the distance was covered without my stretching out on the sidewalk.

I’m not sure this is the most faithful translation. I just loved rolling the words off my tongue as a daily encouragement.

¹² So then, brace up and reinvigorate and set right your slackened and weakened and drooping hands and strengthen your feeble and palsied and tottering knees,

Hebrews 12:12 Amplified Bible Classic Edition

Over the years I have amassed a folder of comic strips that I have used or even hoped to use to illustrate various points. When real life can be made fun of we being to realize change has happened. Sometimes the recognition or our applied intelligence response happens quickly denoted by a chuckle. Other moments a little explanation is needed to to elicit an, “Oh, I get it!,”

For some time I have read articles on Artificial Intelligence and how development will change our lives. I just ran a web check and turned up 15 sites on the first page from a definition to extensive explanation from Wikipedia. A few of the comments required my looking up other words in order to follow the sequence of importance. Back to the comic strips. Star watchers may shiver at the fake news commentator of F Minus: “Good news for whose who fear the dark. Experts estimate light pollution will soon reach a point where nighttime will finally be a thing of the past” Did a committee decided this would make our lives better? Another F Minus: “Based on the content the algorithm has been showing lately, I get the sense I’m going to be really into lentils soon.” If you know anything about Jacob and Esau, lentils may not be a step forward. This is my favorite from Rhymes with Orange. The image is two people at a desk behind the company name, ROBOTICS, INC. By the door next to the hall is the name of the department: HUMAN RESOURCES. A tin robot is putting an X through HUMAN while one person at the desk remarks, “To be honest the latest models scare me.”

I respect what can be accomplished. Sometimes I want a real explainer. These paragraphs are dedicated to Eric, flesh and blood, but unknown and unseen. I had a telephone problem last week. I went to the web site and using my intelligence clicked several buttons. No luck. I tried to the number to the robot who supposed identifies the need and makes a solution so much better. They never can translate South Louisiana, so finally the voice said, “Let me connect you to someone who can help.” Hence Eric. Yes, he could, yes he did. AI may outshine me on several fronts. May my intelligence always meet the needs for which it was created along with all who inhabit the earth: to be a listener, to be a helper, to be one who loves.

Then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being.

Genesis 2:7

Neighborhoods vary. I have always lived on a street where the row of houses appeared as a family bought a lot and built what they wanted. Through years to come the house retained the name of the original owner. In my lifetime in Hammond, before moving to Linden Ave at the foot of Charles Street down from the depot, we lived at the corner of Church Street, Then home was a rent house by the Episcopal church, and finally the last house for a few years was on the north corner of Pine Street before the college. A vacant lot next to us was where we raised chickens and Daddy had enough rows of corn to pick and eat. As a child I remember telling an adult my address and their answer would be, “Oh, the old (fill in the name) house.” Even now, I don’t live in a “cookie cutter” development neighborhood.

Yet somehow, the flow of these houses follow a pattern with necessary rooms easily found: a living room and dining room, bedrooms to the side along with baths, and then a kitchen with maybe a back porch. I know of only one house I’ve been in that didn’t have a kitchen window over a sink. Kitchen windows tie one to the whole world while time is spent tending to daily chores or maybe just stopping for a glass of tap water.

On Linden, I would view a large back yard. My mother’s bed of Shasta Daisies and pansies was one corner of the view. In the far back was a small pan to fill with water for Brownie, the thrush my daddy fed each morning and talked to as if they were best friends. As I write this, the son in Steamboat can only see a pile of snow after a month of unprecedented daily downfalls. At Rice I could look across a neighbor’s yard and watch traffic on the one-way south bound street as it slowed for a lighted intersection. That same view had par excellent sunsets that almost made dishwashing a pleasure. My present window is filled by a huge live oak tree that unlike other oaks loses its leaves in the fall. Its bareness reveals a skeleton shape and the blobs of leaves constructed to be squirrel nests in the spring. In full summer glory, the green is framed by the brightness of a blue sky. Once a team was called in to trim and shape and I watch enthralled as men swung from pulley ropes while carrying chain saws, the twenty-first century version of sailors hanging from the topgallant mast as they adjusted the sail.

If you stand at the front door with it open, you may be waiting for the mail person or you may be the noisy neighbor. If you look out the kitchen window you are just becoming one with the world, checking on children at play, or waiting for a car to come down the driveway, so you can wipe your hands and go to welcome someone home. Your day will be made complete.

Look around you and see what is happening: Your people are gathering to come home! Your sons will come from far away; Your daughters will be carried like children. You will see this and be filled with joy; You will tremble with excitement. 

Isaiah 60: 4 – 8