The Cache La Pouder River Rapids

Where the rapids flow

through Pouder’s canyon narrows

wild, white waters go.

_____________

Joyce E. Johnson (2017)

The Cache La Poudre river is a very popular one in northern Colorado for river rafting, but can be very dangerous when the river swells, spills over and causes floods from too much rain as in the Sept. 2013 flood. I took the video above of the river overflowing to levels of spilling over its banks making it dangerous to rafters. Below is a video link where you can view the video portion in Amazon where I have it saved in the Amazon cloud.

https://www.amazon.com/photos/share/w0yGa2McIe1QQ4RkKg3jBz0lNz66VGLXtz9nidMRqTF

For information on the Cache la Poudre, click here;   https://www.rivers.gov/rivers/cache-la-poudre.php

Rafters on the Cache La Poudre River, northwest of Fort Collins, Colorado, May 15th, 2015. We drove up to see what the river looked like after getting so much rain and got there just as these rafters were ready for their trip down. The river levels out here and is a starting point where rafters board their rafts for the trip down.  JEJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I blog

Many years ago I would never have thought about doing a blog. I was always a very private person, more of an introvert. When I opened one with Word Press in 2011 I left it idle for a whole year without posting anything publicly. I didn’t think I wanted to open myself up to the world out there with my personal stuff. My first draft was never posted. It sat in the draft folder for a whole year. I was still grieving over having lost my dog to an incurable disease after spending ten wonderful years with him. The decision to have him euthanized rather than suffer through his illness was still too painful to even share and I wondered if I could ever feel open enough to share the things that touched my soul so deeply. Except for some articles, poems and stories that were published by a traditional publisher prior to that time I felt that a blog would require more of myself than I was willing to share.

When I finally felt ready to go public and come out of my introverted self, I opened up other social media accounts; Facebook and Twitter. I saw the way others posted with such candor and graphic accounts of their lives, the good, the bad and the ugly. I said to myself, Do I really want to do this? Expose myself to strangers? Will anyone care what I have to say, or write? Will my poems or stories resonate with anyone out there? Yet, I could not deny how much I loved to write, and thought at least if I put it out there, be bold enough to bare my soul, share my life, maybe I have something to offer. People are hurting, from things we don’t know anything about. What if a kind word from someone, who cared enough to share encouraging thoughts, words, or prayers was enough to make a difference? Wouldn’t it be worth it, if someone was helped by something I contributed via my blog, Facebook or Twitter?

The number of ‘likes’, ‘follows’, or ‘friends’ one gains is not important if another one who reads it is encouraged or helped by what is shared. A story, post or picture does not have to be sensational. It doesn’t have to be a part of a photo posting competition or word prompt to see who posts the best. I don’t care to advertise how many ‘follows’ or ‘likes’ I have to know that my ‘reflections’ and perspective on things are appreciated by someone. Just sending it out there is all that really matters. It is why I blog.

______________

Joyce E. Johnson (2017)

Posted July 10, 2017 by Joyce in blogging, My Writings, Writing

Tagged with ,

Because of Freedom I Come

 

In freedom, I come

with my heart lifted in song

I sing

for unto Him, who sits on the throne I come

without shame, into His presence and bring

myself, an offering I give

that He may bless

all that I have, all that I am,

all that I ask of Him, and confess.

Let it be unto Him and none other

I lift up my voice

in praise, in worship, rejoice,

and may my freedom, like the flags held high

be forever, and lifted up towards the sky.

________________

Joyce E. Johnson © 2017

I’ve always considered myself patriotic. A flag hung where a slight breeze could send it waving a humble salute up to the sky. Parades and picnics, hamburgers and hot dogs, sweet corn, ice cream and watermelon always seemed the standard, typical fare I enjoyed in celebrating a holiday that pays tribute to the freedoms we share in this great country. All of the day’s events and festivities climaxed and culminated in the final grand display of fireworks and sky show after the sun went down and the sky lit up with color and boom.

But, it is the privilege of walking into a church to worship that I count as perhaps the greatest and most important of freedoms we have in the U.S. as we near the July 4th holiday on Tuesday. More and more now we are seeing less and less of those freedoms we hold dear as the threat becomes greater all the time with those who want to destroy our rights and freedoms as a believer, a Christian, an American, a Patriot, or one who chooses not to worship any. This is not meant to be a political statement of any kind, or to proclaim which side I stand with, but instead to just proclaim my right as a Christian believer to exercise my freedom to worship and serve my God where I choose. However and wherever you celebrate the July 4th this year as an American or even a new immigrant into this country I wish you a happy July 4th. JEJ

 


…as a beacon upon a hill

A lighthouse off the Na Pali west shore coast of Kauai, Hawaii

 

 Lord, guide me safely

to your shores where I might find

sanction and sweet peace,

and that my own light be seen,

and my life in You lived well

be as a beacon upon a hill;

Let it shine that one might see

a safe harbor found in thee.

________________

Joyce E. Johnson © 2017

“I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” John 12:46 (NIV) Bible

His Dad’s Tool Chest

“Why did we have to come? He didn’t care about us when he was alive. Why should I care now?”

“Because, he was your father. Show some respect. He deserves that much.”

“Why? He left us! He didn’t want us. I want to go home.”

“Ben, we can’t. These people want to meet us. They were…are friends of his.”

“Please, mom. Can we just leave after the service?” He swiped a sleeve to his moist eyes.

“I know this is hard for you. It is for me, too. But, we have to face what is, and…go on, like we’ve been doing all these years. It will be alright.” She gave him a tight squeeze. “I promise.”

They were stopped by a man as they headed back to the car after the graveside service.

“Excuse me. Are you Ben? And, you are Shauna, I presume?” He smiled and shook their hands. “My name is Edward Jennings. I was a friend of your father’s. I handled some of his legal matters for him, and he left some things he wanted you to have. Here’s my card. If you will give me a call before you leave town we’ll set up an appointment to go over his will, and discuss some things with you both. We can’t do that here. Would that be alright?”

Shauna looked at Ben, then nodded. “Sure. That will be fine. Thank you.”

The next day they were shown into an office at, ‘Jennings, Croft and Perry’, Attorneys at Law.

Ed greeted them, directed them to chairs, then brought out a large dark wooden chest. “Ben, your father wanted you to have this. It opens up with this key.”

Ben took the key handed him and turned the lock. The chest had the initials, B.A.C. Sr. carved into the front. The lid swung back easily on its hinges revealing the contents inside.

Ben went through the chest one item at a time, things he’d never seen before, tools of some kind, turning them over in his hands.

“Those are carving tools, Ben. He took up the craft after starting in construction and made this chest. He was quite good at it, actually.”

There were some pictures, a few of Ben when he was a baby, with his mother, then as a toddler, but none of Ben past the age of four. He read the notes written on the back. There were envelopes with some money and old coins, another set of keys, and a bible with scriptures written on the inside pages. He opened it up and found a quote, “Whatever worth building in life is only as good as its foundation.”

“What does this key go to?” Ben asked.

“It belongs to a safe deposit box in you and your mother’s name. I have another set here I will be giving you and your mother also. It is a set of house keys, to his house, also left in your names.” Ed replied, smiling at them both.

Ben looked over at his mom, noting the look of surprise and shock on her face.

He then opened a sealed envelope marked, “Private; to Benjamin Alexander Crowley Jr.,” and withdrew a single letter which he read silently to himself.

    “Ben, I have no adequate words to tell you how sorry I am for leaving you and your mother. I wanted only to hold you, close to my heart, but was afraid, too ashamed to show myself after being gone all those years. When you were very small I had a gambling debt and owed some people a lot of money. I did a lot of awful things back then, drank too much, wasted time and money on all the wrong things. The people I hung around with were wild, not the kind of friends anyone should have. So, to spare you both I just took off. I thought if I could get a decent job, clean up my act, pay off my debts, and get my head on straight, I would come home. But, I was afraid. Afraid I would not be welcomed. I regret all the things I did, but my biggest regret was leaving you both to struggle alone through the years, without me. Please forgive me. It is all I ask. What I want you to know above all else is that I love you and your mother. I always have. Treasure every moment you have with her and grow up to be the kind of man I wasn’t, so you won’t live with regrets. I’ve paid off my debts and owe no one anything anymore, except to you and your mother what I stole; the time and years wasted when I wasn’t there.”

Ben looked up at Ed and asked, “What did my father do, on his job?”

“He worked for a company that built tall buildings, skyscrapers.”

“How did he die?”

“They were working on a construction site project when the scaffolding gave way, and collapsed. He was crushed underneath.”

A year later, on Father’s Day Ben and his mother stood at the grave site of Benjamin Alexander Crowley, Sr., each bringing their gifts; a bouquet of fresh flowers from the garden at their house, the one now belonging to them, and a small wooden cross Ben hand carved with his father’s tools.

Ben had no special words to say to fit the occasion. He had no memories of Father’s Day times spent with his dad. All he had was the “now moment” his mother called them.

“Thanks Dad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there,

Joyce E. Johnson (2017)

Whispering palms

Kalapaki Beach, Kauai Island, Hawaii, April 2017, photo credit: Joyce E. Johnson

 

So light the touch on my cheek I feel

  a breath of sweet air from the cocoanut palms,

their branches waving like blades of grass;

 ‘Trade winds’ that blow across the island

push away the moist blanket of settling heat,

 a hovering squall of humidity

bringing a welcomed gust from off the sea,

 and the refreshing cool breeze that blows through this place

 brushes past me like a whispering fan on my face.

________________

Joyce E. Johnson (2017)

 

 

If it be but just a trace…


If it be but just a trace I leave in this world,

not a footprint for some to find or follow,

if it be but just an impression, my words or deeds

said or done once upon a time or place,

or even just a hope it be remembered today,

or maybe even tomorrow,

it is enough. I’ll not seek to strive for more,

for it may be just a trace

that impacts another’s life, or just tucked inside their heart.

Then it will be a life well lived,

not one gone with remorse or regret,

for that trace, I leave behind

is enough because it’s mine.

________________

Joyce E. Johnson © 2017

This post was done for the Daily Post word prompt. https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/trace/


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