Summer Saturday Mornings

I’m not a morning person, really, at all. Bring on the coffee! And yet, most ideal Saturday morning sleeping in times, I am awake and up.  First I enjoy quiet time in the yard with the mandatory coffee cup in hand, and then I head to the garden for some time of weeding and harvesting. 

This last Saturday was no exception.  The beautiful lily blooms welcomed the day with their bright colors.  Industrious butterflies fluttered on the wind like yellow and white wisps. The garden was equally welcoming, the coffee is now in a to-go mug, and I enjoyed the sound of the bees flying from corn tassels to squash flowers to bean flowers.  My hands became dirty, little scratches appear on my arms from moving aside squash leaves, and great excitement builds at finding green beans ready to be picked and bring home.  A few hours later, after removing the pounds of dirt I have picked up from “playing” in the garden, I am ready to really start my weekend. 

Though coffee remains a common factor throughout, it is the quiet time that refreshes my spirit at the start of the weekend.  It is time away from excess noise and wonderful distractions to listen quietly for God’s voice.  The words of the song, Great is Thy Faithfulness, fill my heart.  “‘Great is Thy faithfulness,’ O God my Father,’” sweet words in all seasons and times of day; even in the morning with a cup of coffee in my hand.

Catching Up - Part I

  I have started writing a blog over the last few weeks and found myself stuck, not because I have ran out of things to say (but because I have been doing a lot of writing at work and my brain seems to want to be in neutral at home).  So, let me recap….

   There was Memorial Day – wonderful sleeping in day!  I love a sale as much as the next person, but that day is really not about sales for me.  I have had many people in my family that have served in the military.  And, it is a day that I remember not only those who served or are serving, but also those who are left behind and serve at home.  The mothers, wives, and children who waited at home for the letters from far off battle field held it all together until the family was joined again. 

   It was graduation weekend too – with parties and ceremonies and a combination of memories remembered and new ones made.  There are a few kids saying bye-bye to high school and hello to the new adventure of college.  Of course, it brought back memories of my own high school graduation.  We held our ceremony outside, and the memories of that day and the celebration came rolling back.

   A birthday girl turned 8 years old!  And I had such fun helping to celebrate that with her.  She is growing up so beautifully, inside and out.  I have spent the majority of my growing up away from family, so I have missed many birthday parties.  It is so much fun to participate in these family parties with special friends. 

There was more, but it will have to wait for another day – my mind is tired and my eyes say it is time to ditch the contacts and go to sleep.  

Summertime

Summer – the word evokes a flurry of responses in me. I live near an elementary school, and notice that for the children making their way back and forth, they seem to have picked up a new spring in their steps. Summer is freedom; freedom from school and homework, to have time to sleep in or get up way to early and play outside until way too late. Summer time and the living is easy.... the words from George Gershwin float on the too still warm air as I seek out the comfort of shade. Lightning bugs and the sounds of night cricket sonnets fill the air as much as the light from the stars and moon. The sounds of leaves in the wind, they strike me as if they actually are laughing with the pure delight of receiving a cooler breeze than those of us with two feet stuck firmly on the earth. Summer is sun dresses and sandals, sheer silky scarves wrapped around your neck and lawn chairs. Summer is the splash of the garden hose and the smell of fresh sun warmed strawberries. Summer is the bliss of walking into the air conditioning and being able to snuggle under a quilt rather than sweating buckets on top of all sheets while fans are running. Summer is baby birds that don’t fly very well yet, are slightly mottled and now stand next to their momma’s while waiting to be fed rather than waiting in the nest. Summer is the sound of the riverboat horns as they approach each other.

I have a lot of really wonderful summer memories. I have played in sprinklers, mud, and trees. I remember making up plays with neighborhood compatriots who apparently either was willing to share the flare for the story telling or just did what the bossy neighbor girl told them. A white long haired dog named Bo Bo used to stand on our picnic table, and wait for us to come and pet him. He appreciated the attention as one of those good neighborhood dogs. He did not appreciate it when my mother tried to use some flea killer on him. With hurt feelings, he did not come back for a week. I remember summer vacations, especially ones in the back of a big green van. It had a bed in the back and I loved lying on that bed, and having it completely covered with whatever project I was working on at the time. I would let myself roll from side to side as we went around corners and watch other drivers out of the back windows. I remember many summers of band and sweating on the side of a football field. It seemed a great accomplishment to learn a few new steps, a few new notes, which we knew would be needed come fall and competitions. The accomplishment seemed worth the sacrifice of our summer hours, our sweat, blood, and yes – tears. I remember trips to stay with my grandparents. Swimming at the campground with one and all sorts of messy projects with another.
I look at this summer and as it is my first one without either being in school, preparing for school, or completely burned out from school, and I wonder what I should do with myself this summer. There is work of course. But, that is to support life, not life itself. What should I do? Read a few new books? Of course! Three are on order, two Geoffrey of Monmouth books and one biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine. I have considered lying down on the driveway at night while the pavement is still warm, but figure the neighbors would all think I had gone completely buggy. Oh well, I may do that anyway. There are flowers to picked, pictures to be taken, birds to listen to. Trips to plan, friends to visit, and time to enjoy the antics of the dogs. There is my Bible to read, my time in prayer, and Character Camp at church (like a VBS). This summer is unique. It will never come again. I feel that I need to dig down deep and plant something here that is memorable, that will be recalled someday like my grandmother’s snowball bushes. A lasting memory that comes back to life with a fragrance or sight.

Meant to Move

A few days after a trip, with a stormy night making yesterday feel even longer, about three o’clock in the afternoon I wanted to go home and go to bed, getting some sleep. Oh sleep!!! Where is my bed? Can I just lie my head down on a conference table someplace? A banana, nearly green like I like it, and a glass of water helped. But, I knew that when I got home from work that I would need to help mow. I don’t really mind mowing on days like yesterday, with a nice breeze and without it being very hot. In fact, it’s good exercise and thinking time.

Pulling into the driving, my head was set back against the headrest. The door opened, the warm air rushed in and I just sat there. Oh, I just want to sleep. Must change clothes, must put on tennis shoes…must go hug the pillow and curl up for a quick nap. The curling up lasted seconds, the mowing started. With a water bottle tucked into my pocket, I headed out to mow. At first, my feet were dragging along with my sheer force of being forced too. Continuing on it became easier, energy came even as the grass grew shorter.
We are meant to move. We gain energy with movement, exercise, exertion. It seems contrary and rest is certainly an important and necessary thing. Progressing along, stirring in our path, we are meant to move. Step out and let’s dance down the path, or at least make ourselves finish the mowing.

Sleeping In

This morning, I woke up with my alarm and then turned it off. Like normal, I slumped back onto the bed and under the covers. Oh pillow, I don’t want to leave you! Waking up nearly 45 minutes later, I realized that I hadn’t left my pillow, I had fallen back asleep. Scrambling to get dressed, do my hair and make-up, I grabbed a banana and stuffed it in my purse.

Life falls into routines, times to get up and times to go to sleep. My body gets used to a certain cycle of time for rest, activity, work, family and when these are mixed up it can be rather disconcerting for the rest of the day.
There are cycles in life as well, and as we move from one to another they can be disconcerting for us then as well. The words of Ecclesiastes 1 are familiar to many, especially from the song Turn Turn Turn by the Byrds.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
A time to embrace and a time to refrain,
A time to search and a time to give up,
A time to keep and a time to throw away,
A time to tear and a time to mend,
A time to be silent and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate,
A time for war and a time for peace.”

I would imagine that you, like me, can think of times that have been for each one of these. I think of birth and dying moments, being uprooted during moves, and planted into new homes. I think of times when I have needed to tear down walls and other times when I needed to have the protection of a high hedge. Weeping and mourning, laughter and dancing, those have also been experienced. Sometimes though, it has been laughing with weeping and mourning with dancing. Stones of judgment have needed scattered, stones of remembrance have needed gathered. Embracing new adventures, new tasks and challenges can be wonderful but at other times I have needed to pull back and regroup. Throwing away is a good thing in spring cleaning, rather for the house or for my life. But, the empty areas are refilled with God’s presence. To tear, to mend, to be silent and to speak, I think in my case though it might also be to sing. Though, there was a time last year that I was yelling at the trees in the backyard, well not so much at them as in there general direction. A time to be silent, to listen and a time to speak, to pray and petition, to confess and praise. A time to love and a time to hate, hating sin, hating what God hates. A time for war and a time for peace, to wage against our inadequacies and our ignorance, our prejudices and judgments.


Yes, those transitions can be quite disconcerting, like waking up late or being jolted suddenly in life.