But in the past couple of years I am more invigorated and empowered than ever before in my life.
Wow, it only took 66 years. Easter hit me hard this year and woke me up to two truths that can set us free.
She had been lost for three hours at 10,500 ft in mountain wilderness. Panicked, I had run in every direction and called her name until my voice was gone.
I could close my eyes and see her blond hair and innocent blue eyes. She must be terrified. I remembered the swampy area farther up the mountain between the creek and the road—a stretch of bog covered with almost impenetrable brush and potholes full of mossy, stagnant water.
I clawed my way uphill through thick brush that fought my every move. Often I would sink thigh-deep in small muddy pools. The strenuous effort plus the altitude and stress dragged me to the brink of exhaustion. Don’t let her be in here I prayed as I slogged ahead. Please. Don’t let her be in here.
Even in the middle of the best, most benevolent and productive activities, it is wise to keep our eyes open for another kind of opportunity, a moment born within the one we are engaged in. A moment we dare not miss.
Our original plan isn’t always the best plan and what seems like an interruption may actually be an invitation to a witness a tiny miracle.
This is the story behind the painting that inspired my post “King of The Forest” and the lesson I learned from a little boy wearing a crown of leaves.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again
Remember that poem?
Kind of a bleak picture isn’t it. Every body falls at one time or another. Whether it is a financial mess, a moral failure, a relationship breakdown or a personal defeat, it isn’t a matter of IF you will fall, it is a matter of WHEN you will fall. Yep, I have been there too.
Candie wasn’t his little girl any more. She was a married women, she had children and grandchildren.
He was gone now and Candie was thousands of miles from home. She knelt and wept at the prison camp where he had suffered.
She walked along part of the 70 miles he was forced to walk as a prisoner of war, aware that 70 years before he had passed the same fields, seen the same mountains in the distance.
He was so young when he was forced to experience atrocities that would shape his life forever.
He was my father Ken Davis Sr and Candie is my sister. She has honored his life and his faith in a very personal and inspiring way.