The Weary Traveler.

My feet have traveled a dusty path, sometimes weary and worn. I look behind me often to see in the prints, the weight I've born. So many emotions experienced; some good others sad. But if I have learned anything at all, it's to keep traveling; be thankful and glad.

There has been sorrow in those footprints. Heartaches, but some joy too. I have learned through the hard knocks of life, sometimes you just press through. No, it's not always been easy. Sometimes life is pain. But there are days of unabashed joy, when the hurt just seems to wane.

I've climbed many high mountains. Crossed their barren peaks. I've traversed lowly valleys where the Lily's grow so sweet. Met many strangers. Found many friends. Established a few relationships that fizzled in the end.

Most days I just walk alone. No longer in a hurry. Just taking each day one at the time. Trying not to worry. I was young once, but now I'm older. My face weathered and worn. Like an old piece of leather, from a hide that was torn.

My enemies have scorned me. In the past scorned me to shame. But I just kept on walking; their loss will eventually be my gain. They may claim a lifestyle, that I can never attain. But in the end time will prove their loss is my gain.

No, I am not complaining. Please don't misunderstand! For I am content to be  just where I am. Many treasures I have lost still I'll make it just the same. Till I reach that final resting place where those who count will know my name.

Happy New Year

"Keep your powder dry and a sharp eye.
May the sun be always at your back.
May your hands be steady and your shots
be straight. And may God watch over your
fate...

What is Christmas?

" "What is Christmas?" the little child asked. Is it sleigh bells and pretty trees and Santa at last? Is it clothes; like socks, undies and things? Or is it new toys, like trikes, bikes and dollies, that this "Santa Claus" brings? "Does he bring the snow?" on the ground so white? Is there really a twinkle in his eye, on Christmas night? Daddy can you answer, can you tell me please? What does Christmas really, really mean?"

Well, Daddy he pondered, he thought before he spoke. He didn't want to lie. He didn't want to joke. He didn't want to damage an innocent dream. So he sought in his heart for the right answer, it seemed.

"Christmas is love for all living things. For puppies and ponies and kittens too. It's kindness to the elderly, Papa and Gran. For the poor and the lonely; sweethearts with rings. Christmas is a special time for every woman and man. For beautiful, innocent children all over the world. Even for babies, in countries ravaged by war.

Christmas isn't Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall. Christmas isn't a day; it's a time for one and for all. A time to spread love, good will and cheer. It's a time for feasting and laughter and tears. A time to put away all sorrow and fear. If only for a moment to think of others, our peers.

But the greatest meaning of Christmas is love. The only real gift that comes from above. It cannot be boxed or wrapped with a bow. It flows from the heart to everyone we know. It cannot be bought, but can be given away. Christmas should be Christmas, every day.

Christmas is free, It cannot be bought, nor can it be sold. The Christmas price was paid, long, long ago. Paid by a baby, the great God in man. That is Christmas, do you understand? The little child amazed, with eyes so bright, looked upon her Dad with sheer delight. She had heard of three wise men at her Sunday school that day. But they could never be as wise as her Daddy; nor as cool.

SHASTA

I gaze upon the mighty peaks, of her lofty crown. A proud lady gazing down, upon all that surrounds her. Her head and brow are crowned with white, the wisdom of the ages. I'm sure she finds amusement upon all that she gazes.

Heavens lights fall upon her; capturing her proud face, as she stands in proud assurance, prominently in her place. Natures beautiful lady, with a natural beauty of her own. There is none other like her. Majestic and alone.

A queenly sentinel she stands. Weathered by time and storm. Yet nothing besmirches her beauty, though through the ages she has borne. Wind, rain, sleet and snow. Temperatures in the highs and the very, very lows. The queen of California, in quiet beauty on her throne.

A Horse Of... with a horse.

A horse of a different color of course is still a horse of course. Size, shade or shape, of course, doesn't change the fact that a horse is a horse. You can ride it, lead it, strip it or tease it. But it will always be a horse of course. You can love, laugh at it or loath it. But it will still be a horse, of course.

It will always be a horse of course, because that was the way it was born; a horse. So nothing else can it be. Some can be big, some can be small; some can be short, some can be tall. But of course irregardless of choice; a horse is still a horse of course.

Where would the first man have been you see, if he hadn't had a horse. He would be walking on two feet; instead of running on four. That's why its great to have a horse of course. You can get where your going in half the time.

So ends my little rhyme. Ride a horse and save some time.

For lack of bread - A Seasonal Thought."

"O come all ye faithful joyful and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem..." Why would anyone want to come to or from a town called Bethlehem? Bethlehem is a Palestinian city located in the central West Bank, about 10 kilometers south of Jerusalem. Its population is  approximately 25,000 people. It is the capital of the Bethlehem Governorate. The economy is primarily tourist-driven. This is the modern day “House of Gread.”

The “House of bread; the city of David; the birthplace of Christ.” A city of internal struggle and strife for Millennia. Who would want to come to “Bethlehem?” “Why would anyone want to come to “Bethlehem?”

BREAD! A pure and simple answer. In Bethlehem was where the “Bread of life was first brought into the world.. ( Jn 6:33, Jn 6:34, 6:48 ) 

A fight for bread! A battle for bread! A war for bread! The reason for the season, is not land, money, or any other material gain. It is a war over “the BREAD of life.”

He who came and went. Bled and died. He who Rose again the third day! That is why there is conflict, confusion and turmoil throughout the world. It is a lack of that “living BREAD!”

"I am the bread of life."

Deaths Journey

You had been resting quite awhile, things had not gone well. But you worried about those who could not see. All gathered round, looking, weeping, praying; some were very ill at ease. But you waited patiently for another one to come. And you were just as patient as you please.

He slipped quietly into the room an early December day. The sun was just kissing the tops of the trees. He had other appointments to keep, but he could wait awhile anyway. He walked to your bedside, sat down and took your hand. And in a gentle voice explained why you couldn't stay. Just like himself, another appointment waited; and soon you would have go away.

Your journey would not be far and the trip would be gentle like breeze.. A few steps together and up and away. A place of new beginnings, to start a brand new day. "Will I like it there?" you asked. His answer was, he really couldn't say.

Everyone's trip is different. And people are different too, so in the end; it would just be up to you. You would be the one to know whether the trip was good or bad. So, you decided, "Well, I guess we had better go."

You sat up upon your bed and remove the things that held you there. The monitors, the hoses and the like. You slipped into your clothes, which had been neatly folded out and stepped with your companion into that dark good night.

Then you were gone and no one was left but those that mourned. They thought they'd never see you anymore. Time for them will continue. But you have gone ahead of them to wait. Someday others will follow the same path as you. And there you will meet them at the door.

Written December 11th 2014 @ 11:22. In honor of Benny Ray Smith, my nephew.

Copyright https://www.blogger.com-Russ Mears/The Rusty Bucket