A couple of days ago I climbed to the top of a volcano here on La Palma, one of several. Some predictions are that one of these suckers will blow and crack off a chunk of this island, sending a tsumanmi that’ll swamp NY City a few thousand miles away across the Atlantic. Cheerful thot. The forest was peaceful as I climbed, just me and God for the most part. The view at the top included a cross.   This cross, but in a different season, from a different camera; just thot this was a cool picture.  The Sacrifice stands up to all kinds of weather.


          I spent my time reviewing the sermon on the mount. Keyed in on the first few verses of chapter 7, about not focusing on the smudge on your neighbor’s face when your own face is distorted with contempt. As I came round a corner, close to the one below, heading down from the top, on the steepish path, four portly Germans were struggling their way up the path. They asked for directions. I found myself thinking, “they’re helping themselves to too much of that good German beer and been packing away the groceries.” As I gave directions and shoved off down the path, I tripped and slid into a hole, about 3 feet deep. Laughed at myself as they helped me up. Later I thot, just how much of a sense of humor does the Lord have, anyway?