Remember

Why are you lonely? Do you not remember?

What about the night I took the sorrow of a sixteen-year-old boy and filled his heart with joy inexpressible?

What about the time a college senior sat solitary in the forest at his campfire, fully aware of my presence?

What about the time a younger man was pulling out of his parents' driveway, suddenly keenly aware that in the midst of his grandparents' ill health, a failed relationship, and several other trials, I would carry him through his heartache?

Why are you lonely? Do you not remember?

Did I not say that I would never leave and never forsake?

Did I not adopt you into my family with eternal finality?

Did I not rescue your soul from darkness?

Remember, my son, that you are called by My name and are by rights my child.

Remember, my son, that I have taken your calcified heart and utterly transformed it.

Remember, my son, that I will faithfully love you regardless of your stumbles along the way.

Be not lonely, my son, and remember that I am with you now and forever.

Remember that I am God, who calls you out from darkness and into marvelous light.

Castle Dome

The alarm goes off at 3:57 AM.

I grab my backpack, some water from the fridge, and head out the door.  Alex is waiting outside, ready for the trip to the mountains.  His Altima, we anticipate, will have trouble on the unpaved roads, so we take my Sorento.  The roads quickly empty as we leave town. Rumbling tires and the drone of the air conditioning are the only sounds.  The desert is silent.

We turn off the highway after many miles, approaching the trailhead.  Eight miles of dusty dirt road brings us to a mining museum on the left and a big gate - quite deliberately padlocked - on the right.  A red light blinks on and off: whoever recently built this fortress is keen to discourage trespassing.  Alex mutters in frustration, as no one had mentioned such security in all his internet researching the day before.  The sun still sleeps, so we cannot see Castle Dome, yet we know it looms not far to the north.

Back on the main road, we decide to head north.  The sky lightens and others silently pass us by in their journey through the desert.  We come to a border checkpoint (strangely far from any border) and ask the two guards where to go hiking.  They point us to King Road, just a few miles north, and mention loads of trails back in the wildlife refuge.  The road closure we had discovered previously was news to them as well; however, they said, we could still get to Castle Dome the long way around.

So we try it. A sharp right onto King Road, then a sudden right up an embankment on to a narrow dirt road. We stop to catch the sunrise and the drive for nearly an hour and a half through the wilderness, trees scratching the windows with Alfred Hitchcock musicality as we bounce up and down through the washes and the rocks. I thank God that I was given an SUV as a rental car this time around.

Finally, we come to the trailhead.  Walking up the wash as the temperature climbs into the 90s, we find the first cairn: a pile of stones marking the trail to Castle Dome.  Alex's internet research says to follow the wash into the canyon, then there's a clear path up to the right and we would be on our way to Castle Dome.

There is no clear path.  The first cairn is the only cairn that we ever do find.  So, we blaze a trail, scrambling up rocky hills and hoping there are no angry coyotes in the caves that we pass.  Up on the ridge, we finally see Castle Dome, some distance away.  It's clear now why the internet says the hike is a six-hour trip.

We traipse around, conversing about storytelling and work and vacations as we try and find the least dangerous routes through the mountains.  A variety of cacti cling to the hills; small lizards and what might be roadrunners dart around.

Soon, we need to head back to the car, so we walk down into the wash, where the occasional rains unleash torrents of water that carve deep pools in the rocks.  The whole way back, we try to see where we went wrong, but never do find another cairn or anything resembling the online trail description.

Three hours driving follows, most of it off-road.  Safe home.

"Next time, Castle Dome," says Alex, ruefully.  "Next time, we'll defeat you."

Ellicott City Strong

It's surreal to see one's hometown on the news. Even more so when it's because a terrible thousand-year flood has destroyed businesses, wrecked a town, and taken several lives.

Bridge over the Patapsco on an early January morning

There is some sense of helplessness that sets in, seeing all that can transpire in less than two hours.  Yet, this community has thrown aside that sense of helplessness and replaced it firmly with heroism, sacrifice, courage, and selflessness.

How many people formed human chains to rescue those whose cars were caught by the current? How many kickstarter campaigns sprung up to fund the rebuilding? How any local businesses put fundraisers together and pledged to forego significant profits to catalyze the rebuilding?

Incredible effort has gone into rebuilding. There there is much to do, and it will be weeks and months until all is accomplished.

What can the average person do today?

1. Back one of the many fundraiser campaigns still ongoing!
2. Visit the Ellicott City merchants at Turf Valley.  The resort has kindly offered them space to sell their goods.  Go into the main hotel entrance, take the stairs down past Alexandra's, and follow the signs.  They're open Friday thru Sunday.
3. Get back downtown.  Some businesses, such as The Wine Bin and Judge's Bench, are open again, with more to come.  In particular, go visit the Old Mill Bakery Cafe.  Several Ellicott City merchants tell me they're among the hardest hit by the lack of traffic downtown.  You have to take a longer route, yes, but you can get there in short order by taking Illchester Road.  It's most likely the quickest alternative to coming around Route 40 or 695 and down through Catonsville.

Let's rebuild, love our neighbors, and bear one another's burdens.

33A

It's lonely in seat 33A.

Clouds swirl below, crocheted together in an infinite blanket. Just past the horizon, red glow hints of a set sun.

Somewhere below, thousands of lives go on.

This one heads back to London. That one prepares to begin a master's program.

He prepares for a wedding. She sets up her new flat.

Another continues his studies in models, replicas, miniatures.

Lives collide and leave lasting marks.  Joyous days of pressing forward together for the upward call now carry us to places new and familiar.

Sometimes, two weeks is all that is needed for wonderful friendships to begin, no matter the oceans that may soon separate.

And so it is lonely in seat 33A.  New friends are left in the wake of a fading jet trail.  Yet there is gratitude for such an adventure and such people.

Shall I not be glad for an ache that values people I may not see for many days?  Is it not infinitely better than to feel nothing at all?

Tis.

And so there is peace in seat 33A.

What places have you left only to discover they've left a mark on you?