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Today dragged on and on with nothing shining and bright to pull me through the tough spots. I tried like hell to be normal. It just wasn't happening. I find myself opening the cell phone and thumbing through my contacts... "who can I call? who would talk with me to take my mind away from here?" It sucks. Life doesn't suck. Life is beautiful and to be cherished. My life is a little rough around the edges at the moment. I called Nancy (the lady that hosted the planting of EL's memorial tree in her yard) and visited with her about her new baby Yorkie puppy (a girl). I'm going to take Henry over to meet and greet when my mom gets into town this week so we can visit the tree together. She is such a sweet lady. She is always trying to push things on me though... but in a nurturing sort of way. When I say "things", I mean support groups at her church, single folks that have lost, etc. I am not that person. I love that those things exist for people that need them, but that is who I am... bless her heart. I find myself missing every bit of Erin and who she was just as much as what she was to me. Sure, I get lonely and just want to be held at night and feel the warmth of companionship. Sure, I sit for hours with no one to talk to but my pets and long to hear her insightful commentary on life, the universe, and everything. I don't need to revel in group pity when I have a big chocolaty bowl of my own from which to spoon. *sigh* I am totally getting away from why I started to post. I am finding that as I drift further from relating to people around me trying to find my way through the tragedy of not only my loss in her, but her tragic lose in the long, healthy, and happy life she deserved, I am drawn further within myself to evaluate my life and what it means. What I mean to say is "what it really means". We live in a large and complex world that is a spec of dust in a larger and more complex universe. Naturally I am drawn to my beliefs or the reflection upon them rather. There are many little snippets of my existence before Erin that I've all but forgotten due to their relative insignificance. There are many that I've not forgotten, but back shelved for better street presence for memories that sell better in my current market. In light of the broad spectrum of religious observance I've been privy to these last couple of days, I thought I would dust off some of the stuff in the back room.

within the manger

In the mid-ish 90's, I spent a large portion of my life on the ocean. Yes, a sailor in not quite the spinach eatin' and Bluto fightin' sense, but a sailor none the less. I ran across an old post where I skimmed some of my globe trotting in my 20's: "Spain: Rota, Cartegena, Palma de Mallorca. Israel: Jerusalem, Haifa, Bethlehem. UAE: Dubai, Jebel Ali. France: Nice, Paris, Cannes. Italy: Livorno, Naples, Pisa, Florence, Rome, Sicily, Vatican City. Germany: Rammstein, Frankfurt. Greece: Corfu (Kikira), Rhodes. Bahrain. the Caribbean: St. Marteen (half Dutch, half French), St. Barthelemy (French). Canada: Montreal, Toronto, Halifax (Nova Scotia). Mexico: various (hey, I'm from TX). Turkey: Antalya. UK: London. I was born in Corpus Christi, TX and moved around Texas growing up... I lived in Florida, New York, and Virginia before moving back to Texas two years ago." I was fortunate enough to spend some time travelling in Switzerland with Erin since to add to that list. That two years is now closer to seven and that life seems a million miles away. Recently I mentioned buying a new scanner online to archive Erin's baby photos. I blew the dust off an old box of film negatives and dug around for some photos I thought appropriate to accompany the weekend's Bible thumping (well, you get the idea). I scanned these to share. I don't remember much other than I shot them with an old EOS film body and probably some non-descript Kodak 35mm film in my best attempt at a mix of snippity tourist documentarian meets journalist on the go style of cha-ching.

Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est

Guided by Lebanon, Hezbollah recently attacked the port city of Haifa (about 20 miles south of the border) and about 19 other towns in northern Israel with rocket bombardments. Between the attacks and retaliations, at least 170 Lebanese and 24 Israelis have been have been killed in the last 5 days. A decade ago, I was having a coffee in the streets of Haifa... watching the local youth stroll by with their fully automatic machine guns shouldered with patriotism and pride in their mandatory military service and soaking in the middle eastern desert heat from the shade. I remember walking the streets late at night in the downtown districts of this Israeli city and feeling an unusual sense of safety... perhaps unfounded for even then, but none the less existent. I took a bus from Haifa toward the south through the desert and skirting the eastern edge of Tel Aviv onward to Jerusalem. I prayed for my grandfather at The Wailing Wall. I stood before Golgotha Hill. I heard the cries of tens of thousands of Muslims only blocks away nearing the end of their journey during Ramadan. I traveled south to Bethlehem. I remember being humbled by the overwhelming magnitude of historical presence this small town of clay and dirt represented. I remember feeling insignificant. I ducked through the low doorway and gazed in wonderment at the painstakingly crafted mosaic floors below The Church of the Nativity. I remember entering The Manger and kneeling a few feet away at the birthplace of Christ. These are things I will probably never have the chance to do again while on Earth. These are things I am deeply thankful for and although tucked away in some file folder in my mind, will always be special to me. When I think of rare moments like this, I think of my wife and just how precious and irreplaceable each moment with her was to me.

the stone Christ's body was anointed upon