Why I Love Where I Live

There are many reasons why I love my little city, but here's one of them.  I heart my city police department. Wondering why?  Check this out.

So this morning I'm running to Starbucks for a vente three equal sugar free vanilla six pump soy latte before an appointment.  I have my go juice with me in the car, leave the drive through, turn right onto Green Street headed for London Street.  I look to my right to see:

This kind of startled me.  I know that the law says you need to leave a lot of room between your car and an emergency vehicle, but I wasn't too clear about a horse.  Okay, now I'm more than sure that not one of you saw something like this next to the Red Cross building in your town this morning.

Or this:

Because it is important that Pam's Hair Designs with the red marquee, and yes, ALL of Green Street is safe from varmints, rustlers, women of ill fame, horse thieves, and other malefactors.  I've seen some interesting things in my city concerning my police department, but this tops even the time that the transvestite counterfeiters were arrested by PPD and the Secret Service on Chesapeake Avenue in my neighborhood. I was never sure whether it was a lifestyle choice or a disguise.

Quite seriously, police horses do important work. NYPD depends on their horses for all sorts of things,including patrolling Central Park.  All horses  need exercise.  It is important that police horses become used to traffic vs. being exercised in a ring or a rural area.  Our equine friends are highly effective at crowd control. They are used here for big football games and other community events. 

Another officer on a different horse named Knightmare (I think this horse's name is Max.  Knightmare is a cooler name) once caught a bank robber hiding in the bushes with the bag and the dye pack leaking all over the place.  Cops have a great vantage point on top of a horse.  Horses and their humans also serve during parades, particularly Portsmouth's Memorial Day Parade, the oldest in the nation.  I love Portsmouth's police horses, one of the wonderful things about living here.  Seriously.

My Daily Walk

I am really blessed with all the sights and sounds during my walk along Crawford Bay and the Elizabeth River. There is one thing that makes me smile every time I see it and it is the picture above. The round sign up high on the on the pole (which you may not be able to see without double clicking on the pic) says, "Swimming Point." Swimming Point is a tiny, exclusive enclave right on Crawford Bay in Portsmouth. The black and white sign to the left reads, "No fishing, crabbing or swimming. No one else finds it as silly as I do, that there is no swimming at Swimming Point.

Thou Art Graven in My Hands

I took my usual morning walk along the sea wall of the Elizabeth River. The walk begins in Olde Towne, with the gorgeous old houses, each one an individual jewel unlike all the others. Next comes Crawford Bay, usually with diamonds dancing on the very gentle waves as the sun shines on them. The sailboats sway in place where they are moored and the skyline of Norfolk is just across the water.

My favorite part of the walk is when I’m meandering along near the actual sea wall. Portsmouth is a gritty, working port and has been so continuously for over three hundred years. No contrived “re-creation” like those in New York City and Mystic, CT for us!

A paddle wheel passenger ferry takes commuters and visitors back and forth to Norfolk all day. I love the red Matson Company tugboats which chug, chug, chug along pushing coal barges and other vessels. I have a passion for the red tuggies and even have a model of one in my kitchen. The Titan dry dock usually echoes with the sounds of the chipping and grinding of a ship in re-fit. Huge cruise ships float by.

I pass the Lightship Museum and the Mexican restaurant. I finally double back around at the police station and head toward home around the same way, taking advantage of being along the water as much as possible.

The only items which I carry as I walk are my keys. My hand started to ache this morning as I was nearing the end of the walk. I realized that for some reason, I had been gripping the keys very tightly, so tightly that the imprint of one of the keys was left in my palm.


Did you know that the Lord holds on to you and to me just like that? It’s true! Isaiah 49:15-16 tells us, “But Zion said, The Lord has forsaken me, and my Lord has forgotten me. And the Lord answered, ‘Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yes, they may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed a picture of) you on the palm of each of My hands.’” (Amplified Version) The King James version paints even a clearer picture by saying, “Thou art graven in my hands.”

The Random House Dictionary defines “graven” as deeply impressed upon or firmly fixed. God holds each of us so tightly that our impression is firmly fixed into His hands. When you have one of those days when you feel forsaken and forgotten, remember that our times are in His Hands. In those hands are not only the imprints from Roman nails, but also our own individual imprints, because he’s holding us that tightly.