Author: henryalewis

For those of you unfamiliar with my Substack essays, I have a new one coming tomorrow. If you are of a curious mind, give them a look.

The essays appear as A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.

Henry

So, I was returning to my home through the neighborhood and coming up the little slope as I approached our house and yard. Suddenly a bald eagle swooped down between Dave and Rick’s houses, soaring in six feet above the ground, sailing out across my entire front yard and continuing down the middle of the street, just cruising easy like he does this all the time. Breathtaking.

Moments like this cannot be planned. They just come. They startle us with their magnificence, and we are shaken into an awareness of the raw loveliness and beauty and a thousand other things that make up this world. We are made aware once again that life is more than acquiring stuff or meeting some objective set by others. It is made of splendor and wonder. We all know this, but sometimes it takes an eagle to shake us from our fitful sleep.

The same is true of good memories. I think it is important to savor them long, to hold them in our minds and hearts and let them do their work. It is good for us to remember, especially beautiful things. To let them sink down deep into our souls and soften us. For the world and the pressures of a day seem to harden and rob our tender hearts of those many little joys abounding all the time. Pleasant memories are good friends and we need to bring them along on our journey.

My wife and I often walk in Birch Island Park. It is a relatively small park but a treasure. We usually stop along the western ridge trail looking off to the west. In the late afternoon the sun is making its way and the view is spectacular. We are compelled to stop. It would be an offense to simply rush by without a glance. God has painted another spectacular view and we must see it.

Original photograph taken 17 Nov 2023, watercolor painted 21 Jan 2024

Last weekend we were up north visiting relatives. I had some time, so I pulled out my miniature watercolor kit and dabbled a little. I have shared it above.

It is important for us to stop and consider, to pause in the rush and appreciate the raw beauty of things. This memory is from a photograph that chronicles our countless views from this point along the single-track trail. Oh, it is just a memory but it is a sweet memory and I would not exchange it for anything. We all have these moments. I was fortunate to have a little time to capture mine in a watercolor.

Whether you have watercolors or not, each of us need moments to dabble in, good memories to restore our flagging spirits. We crave these brief renewing interludes for they call us to attend to those things beyond, to think on things beautiful, things carrying the sweetness and touch of the One who made them.

 So, what is your view to the west, what good memories touch you and gently and lift your spirit? These are things to make time for.

Henry

If you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.

[Excerpted from Laughter Near the Edge of Heaven, subsequently published by Flying Ketchup Press in their Sprouts collection.]

I had run the day before yesterday, and it had been a good trails and hills workout.  For most of my run I had danced along with some serious, driving, Christian rock music that had seemed to mirror a wild, crazy streak in my running heart that morning.  The sun was rich and pulsating, and I had wanted to cry out like the old song, “You can have all this world, but give me Jesus….”   The trails and the day had been gorgeous.  And now I wanted another rocking good time with God, dashing through the woods, just as a few days ago.  Now it was Sunday afternoon and I had conceived how to slip a run into the remaining day.  I was hungry for some trails. 

For a few days now, I had been saying to my younger son, “Hey, let’s go for a walk and I’ll show you the woods I’ve been running.  You can bring your camera and take some cool shots.  It’ll be great!”  The usual response was something like, “Yeah, maybe….”  So, anyway, I was setting up for my run, changing clothes, filling my hydration pack, grabbing my watch, and then…. “Dad, let’s go for that walk.”  What did he say?  My thoughts bounced between the run and the walk.  My hesitation was no more than a blink of the eye.  Of course, the walk; it held far more worth and promise than just another run in my life.  Runs are great, but there are things more precious and rare than any run will ever be.  This was a special, rare gift to me on a quiet Sunday afternoon.  I redrew my ideas for the afternoon, and a short time later we were out in the forest and on the trails enjoying the natural beauty, the trails, and the countless other things to catch the eye and captivate the mind and imagination in a bustling woodland in springtime.  We wandered along. I showed him the west ridge trail and east ridge path, the twisting, climbing pathways, drop-offs and quick descents, and the views for the highest points in Birch Island Park.  We practiced careening down a loose sand and gravel slope and walked on the railroad tracks because they were there.  Sure, we were careful to listen for trains, and we heard bees and squirrels.  And we saw the sun, brilliant through the trees, and reflecting full-glorious on the shimmering water of a little marshy lake.  And I think our hearts heard things other than words, things shared and enjoyed together, good memories of a quiet Sunday afternoon and a walk in the woods with my youngest.

Henry

If you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.

I met a guy on a plane one time and we were talking. In the course of our conversation I mentioned my interest in Max DePree and his leadership philosophy. The guy said, “I used to work for Max.” I almost fainted I was so excited. Here was a guy who had experienced what Max had written about. A way of leading others with a servant’s heart. I said, “What was it like working for Max?” His simple response was, “It was amazing.” I would have expected nothing less. Here is a taste of Max.

Leading others is not confined to the world of business. It is not limited to corporate objectives or project teams or anything. It is the stuff of daily life. We lead others by our very lives, how we response to success or failure, how we react to our children or our friends (or enemies), how we pursue our interests, or whether we do or no. Ultimately, like much of a meaningful life, it comes down to our heart. How do we treat the other person standing right in front of us? It is a question each of us wrestles with.

If you are interested in reading Max, I suggest his books Leadership is an Art or Leadership Jazz. They are easy reads and inspiring.

If you would like a little more, I have written about these things within a project context in Getting Amazing Things Done and reflected on them personally in Laughter Near the Edge of Heaven, both available on Amazon.

Henry

Lastly, if you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay The Longing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 15 January 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.

23 December 2023

This is Christmas time. Some place no religious significance on these days while others quietly celebrate them with holy solemnity. For some it is gift-giving and getting together, yet for others it is of want and loneliness. What to make of this?

A few days ago, I drove passed an inflated fifteen-foot Santa Claus lightly swaying in the breeze, the tie-downs holding just fine. I briefly considered this colorful oversized Santa as a gaudy distraction from the true meaning of Christmas, and then I checked myself. Wait a minute, at least it is not hateful or violent, and it does bring a smile. But what of the true meaning? Well, it can vary. It might be joy filled with family and friends, or depressing isolation and loneliness. It may be the glitter of parties or the flicker of advent candles or so many other things. We each find our place. And for each of us, we celebrate it as we have come to know it. Many aspire to the old refrain peace on earth, good will to men hoping for some brief reprieve from the violence and hatred confronting us each day. And we have to say it’s just good to see people being kind and smiling a little more. These are all good things about Christmas and we need to appreciate them for the warmth and community they bring.

Yet there is a root to this season of gladhearted generosity. There is a staggering reality in Christmas buried beneath the hubbub and noise.

Christmas commemorates the Incarnation[1]. Jesus come to earth, God become man. Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the story, we know all about the baby in the manger. And perhaps we have found it somewhat charming, but maybe not. Although usually treated as almost fairytale, the event was anything but. A thin comparison can be found imagining an exceedingly wealth couple being shunted off to sleep in a dirty broken-down garage among the smell of grease and oil. For Mary and Joseph and the newborn child it was the rank odors of a stable. A rough dirty shed for animals, a lowly mean place of poverty and need.

I say a thin comparison for this does not begin to convey the ignobility of the moment. God’s own Son coming down from all eternity, divine in nature yet taking on human form as a baby. There is no way for us to imagine this. We confess it as inconceivable for we have no context, no real sense of this profound descent of God into man’s broken world. Christ left his glory in heaven with the Father and came to this sometimes lovely but more often violent and bent place called earth, came in the form of a helpless child. From highest glory with the Father in the heaven of heavens to a backwater village called Bethlehem, to a broken-down backyard shed for desperately needed shelter. From the height of glory with infinite wealth and influence in the chambers of heaven to abject poverty and disregard. Why?

Looking into the Incarnation is a wonderfully deep well exposing the very heart of God. It is much to unpack and too much for today.[1] I would like to focus in on a simple truth.

Where the Christ of God appeared says everything about who he was coming to. He showed up in rough circumstance among the poverty-stricken and helpless of the world. The King of the World showed up among the needy surrounded by wants and hungers unmet, showed up helpless and needing the attentions of his mother, showed up to a hard life to be lived out under Roman occupation surrounded by cunning deceitful religious leaders and a ragtag band of followers that never seemed to grasp who he actually was.. He showed up among need and he showed up because he loves us. It is all beyond measure.

This Christ of God, Jesus, the Son of God and very image of God’s pure ineffable glory came down to earth to serve others. More pointedly, he came to the broken and down-trodden, the destitute and hungry. He came to the lonely and forgotten, the indebted and helpless. He came to the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner in the land. Those people most often overlooked and discarded. He came to them. The God of Heaven came down to these people gladly embracing the shame and degradation of it all for the joy that was set before him.[3] And he has never changed, he remains the same. Ever coming to meet the needs of those unable to lift themselves, to all who have come to realize that they cannot do it. And if we are straight with ourselves, this is all of us. He came and comes every day of our lives. We have only to accept him.

Christmas is a most holy season. The Savior of the World has come. Rest in this and be glad.

Henry

A last word. If you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay On Faith will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 01 January 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.

[1] Merriam-Webster, Incarnation is defined as “the union of divinity with humanity in Jesus Christ.”

[2] Athanasius, The Incarnation of the Word of God. If you are up for a thorough, scholarly study of the Incarnation, this early church father (293-373 AD) is just the ticket. I highly recommend it.

[3] Hebrews 12:2

Good morning and welcome to Monday morning.

I have a little something for you to check out. A website called Story Warren. This is a wonderful site particularly for parents and families.

And I am honored that they have published a story of mine today called The Hackberry Tree. I encourage you to visit Story Warren and and give it a read.

Thanks everyone,

Henry

We feel it. The loss of the warmth and easy comfort that spring and summer gave us, and we turn now into the face of cold weather. Yes, it is here. It is November. Although winter does not officially begin until December 21 this year, we see its chill gaze over the rim and we feel its ice breath.

It sharpens and awakens us as every sense is awakened to some kind of new life. Or, at least we tell ourselves that. For some they huddle down in warm clothing or blankets or grandma’s quilt. For others, they embrace the frigid snap with unbridled excitement that leaves many of us somewhat bewildered. Yet here we are. All of us are in some way transformed.

I am somewhere between the two. I am only half in love with the colder seasons. Just bring me hot coffee and a good book, I’ll be fine. Yes, I’ll run and hike the trails and shovel snow, but more than that, I will see the beauty there. Whatever it is for you, grab that big fluffy hat or wrap a blanket around yourself or drag the snow board out because it is time for a change and we are all in this together. But always be on the lookout for the wonder. It is there for us to feast on and enjoy. And for some of us the wonder becomes a kind of consolation and healing.

The early mornings still have me and I write. I have written for many years. In November 1975 I wrote a poem. Now forty-eight years later I came across it and revised it for you. Maybe it will help us all embrace the cold with a new love. Here it is.

With Each Wonder
Of the healing in nature

With each wonder mend your tired wounds
that spill such anxious laughter in the wind,

the mysterious wind, a faintest stir of a wooing
               above the meadow there,
made of grasses, scrub, and scattered wood,

these in their quiet kiss and subtle beauty lying
               still the illness of your dark and crazy storm,

your harried days now lifeless and without strength,
               dead rigid and grotesque in fading empty light,
a confusion come to crush your wingless aching soul,

yet now in gentle easing hush a silence stills the air,
               and here no false conceit to stir unrest within,

a healing comeliness, a breeze benevolent now borne,
a calm and sweet embrace on heaven’s easy wind.

Originally written November 1975, revised November 2023.

Lastly, a reminder for those interested in things divine. I have a new Substack A Curious Light that launched on October 1. These essays are devoted to my thoughts on Scripture, on life with God and things eternal. This morning I posted Out on the Great Deep. Please give it a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber.

Henry

It is October and an autumn crisp is upon us all. I feel a frigid chill.

The woodlands know how to wait quietly and endure, to take the seasons as they are. I should be so patient with the turn of things. I need to listen more for they are speaking.

I continue to write very early most mornings. It never stops for it is the turn of things with me, this writing of poems and stories, this quiet revealing of my inner world. And I wait for these scribbles to each find their season in the turn of things, their place to show blossom and bear fruit. Yes, all in their time.

My story “Kurpa” was published this June in Jerry Jazz Musician. It is based on a story my mother used to tell us of her early life. Think 1943 and the Second World War. Give it a read if you like.

I have something special for those interested in things divine. My Substack A Curious Light was launched on October 1. These essays are devoted to my thoughts on Scripture, on life with God and things eternal with an occasional poem thrown in for good measure. My plan is for twice monthly releases. Please give it a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber.

Well, it is back to my writer’s studio. I feel a creative wind and words are filling my head once again, so I guess it is time. Life is an ever turning, and thank you for being part of the journey and the wonder of it all.

It has been way too long since I last posted. It seems that I near cloistered myself in my writing studio and hardly came up for air. Well, here I am.

I had the honor this week of having one of my essays published in Ekstasis, the literary magazine of Christianity Today. It appears in their Winter Collection.

The name of the essay is Sheltered by the Beautiful. I hope you enjoy it.

Serendipitously, my daughter Abbey had an essay published in the very same issue. Her wonderful piece is entitled Theatre of the Mind. Please take a look.

My apologies for not posting more regularly, but I confess I have been hard at work writing. The results have been good – three novels, numerous short stories and essays, and a fair amount of poetry. I look forward to sharing much more in the future, but I will leave it at that for now.

Is this a season of isolation or is it a pathway out into the wide wonder of the trails?

Whether you’re a trail runner, an avid hiker, or just quietly meandering along the forest paths looking for a bit of alone time, my guess is that you are getting out beneath the blue heaven. Does it mystify you? Does your heart leap forward savoring the beauty? Yeah, it is the same with me. It’s just wild, but I love to breath deep and gaze out far across the woodlands and the water. It makes me celebrate and almost laugh with joy.

You may enjoy my book “Laughter Near the Edge of Heaven”. I share my thoughts and reflections as a trail runner and lover of nature. Come along with me and share beauty. There is so much to see.

Available on Amazon: bit.ly/NearHeaven

Author’s website: http://www.henrylewiswriter.com

#trailrunner #nature