Throw Open the Windows

Spring weather in the Midwest can sometimes be felt in late February, starting with days of sunshine spilling out; warming everything with the touch of bright rays. Tempestuous weather begins in this season; snow may be flying tomorrow, tornadoes or rain can come, and between are the sweetest of early spring days. As the ground starts to thaw, I can smell the warming moist earth. Greens show themselves in subtle shading of rose canes and early tree buds swelling with new life. The sun is coming earlier and leaving later in the day; delighting me to find the darkest days of winter behind.

Yesterday was one of those sun-warmed days. The back of my house is sun-facing for the majority of the day so I was able to throw up open the windows to let in fresh air. After a long shuttered winter, there is something invigorating and fresh about opening a house to days feeling of spring. I could hear neighbors out visiting, smell grills behind fired up, and enjoyed the giggles and squeals of children playing in their yards – set free to stretch after their winter confinement. The smell of closed-up house leaves and fresh air enters with the breeze, sweetening each room.

“This is the message which we have heard from Him and declare to you, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with Him, and walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

1 John 1:5-9

Sitting at the table, doing a little research, I could feel the breeze touching my face. As I appreciated the feel of the fresh air and its cleaning touch, I thought about how the cleansing of grace offers me the same refreshing. It blows away the old, stale and stagnant air to replace it with what is pure and clean. The words in 1 John struck me newly as I opened the windows at home. I choose to open the windows, but I cannot force the fresh air to enter. It enters as a gift, a movement of wind which I have no power to control.

In the same way, I choose to open the windows of my heart in confession to be instructed by God. I cannot choose to make mercy or grace enter my heart. It is God’s gift that they come and cleanse and freshen with their presence. “He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” What an incredible gift, a taste of which arrives in early spring days.

Fixed in Change

The seasons are changing. I can see it in the changes of the soybean fields from their deep summer green to the almost sunflower yellow that is shown now. Soon, they will look like so many sticks lined up in the fields. The corn’s long leaves of green tapered points are drying into their russet gold. The squirrels seem to be extra busy gathering nuts for the winter, hauling them across the still summer warmed ground to whatever hiding hole they might be using. Somewhere north of here, the eagles are preparing their strength to fly south, marking their seasonal route down the Mississippi that will celebrate the arrival of winter here. Every evening, the constellation of Orion is becoming more and more visible in the sky, arriving earlier to admire as the Big Dipper slips past the horizon sooner.

It seems we all have our opinion on which season is the best. I love the cool crispness of fall and the beautiful colors it brings. Others favor the heat of the summer, the new greenness of spring, or the beautiful snows of winter. Regardless of the favoring of one season over another, they pass in succession. It does not merely remain fall because that is my favorite; just like the summer sun will continue to be farther from the earth, the land will continue to cool into winter. 

As I enjoy this particular season, it is a good reminder to me to seek out the beauty and good in each period of life. There are times of harvest, where what has been so carefully tended is now being enjoyed. There are times of want, when things are lean and difficult decisions are required. There are times when the world is cold. And there are times when you can share the warmth of love with the people around you, basking in the glow of their response. So many more seasons than four pass through our lives, more than the changing of the orbital position of earth. And yet, like the earth, I choose to remain fixed on my center axis, on the Son of God.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” Ecclesiastes 3:1

Spring Smells & Memory

I slipped my toes out of my shoes at the end of the day today and stepped onto fresh spring grass. Tussocks of green in a Midwestern spring, letting the skin on the bottom of my feet meet the skin of the earth. It’s only April, the dirt and grass are still cool to the initial touch. But soon, the combination of sun and standing patiently results in a warming of the earth and my feet.

Spring is rich in sensory experiences, a veritable feast. It was the sense of smell that has particularly pulled at my mind since Palm Sunday. Sitting next to me, a young palm frond waver listened to a sermon while gently waving the leaf in his hands. It wasn’t a distraction, it was a richness of a fresh scent of green making its way to me. Some time has passed since, spring has progressed, and now stepping outside and into the grass reminds of that same smell. 

Weather permitting, I have been trying to walk to work. Those scents have been with me on my walks. I have been breathing in the greening of spring in the tulip tree blossoms, the so subtle scent of the forsythia, and tiny early spring flowers that smell like the blue, white, purple and pink of their blooms. We know from science and from our own experiences that smell is a powerful part of memory making. And that smell, the palm frond, the green smell, it made me wonder – what smell triggered a memory for someone after the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. 

Was it the smell of palm fronds under feet and hoof? Was it the smell of dust rising and mingling with the sharpness of sweat as the clothes were placed on the road? Was it the barn smell of a donkey, the sharp odor of manure with the sweet smell of barns? Was it the smell of the multitude moving together, crying out “Hosanna?” 

I imagine the gentle smell of the palm and how someone else may have smelled and remembered all of those events that happened years ago. Remembered the entry, the triumph, the hope of political change and resolution against a world power. Did the green smell tinge with the bitter, as the memories turned from smells of celebration and welcome turn to smells of blood, fearful tears and warmed armor on a legionnaire? Or did the smell remain fresh and sweet, like the resin smell of the anointing spices that was not needed, not used on someone dead?

Jesus - not dead – not the smell of death. The smell of life, the smell of green and growth. I wonder if they thought of it every spring.

A New Year and a New Leaf

A planter on my desk holds several plants content to grow in overhead office lighting with occasional watering and a few encouraging words. They aren’t fussy plants and I’m good with that. Leaves are glossy green and though they grow very slowly, they are a pretty bit of life to have sitting on the desk next to me. Between Christmas and New Year, being in and out of the office more than normal, I was pleasantly surprised when I was greeted by a brand new leaf for New Year.

The color of new leaf green. It’s a beautiful color; the color of spring in and out of season. Fragile, unfurling and proudly declaring its newness; just like the new year. The year of 2015 has begun and holds all the beauty of a new leaf, delicate and spring green. Conversations of resolutions and new goals for a new year seem to abound. Some will be carried through, some will not; some will be altered and some will be given up for better things. But, I think for me it came like that leaf, unexpectedly and by surprise. 

The year of 2014 went through quickly, seemingly the calendar was on wheels and kept moving along at a faster and faster clip. The year changed before I even realized that it was time and what do you know but – poof, wah-lah and ta-da, the new year came! I’m not sure why things like that catch me by surprise sometimes, it’s not like I don’t know it is coming. But, there it is on the doorstep and new.

Have things like that ever caught you by surprise? You know it is coming, and yet somehow the actual arrival is sooner, unexpectedly sooner? My resolution, this third year in a row, is to choose a word that I will focus on through the year. Having it as a central focus helps to point directions in choosing books, devotions, conversations and seekings. My word for 2015 is with. It’s not a seemingly obvious word or maybe even a worthy of study word. Yet, as I was pondering this for the last month, this word “with” struck me over and over as incredibly powerful. It is a mutual word, with me – with you. It is an active word implying movement. It is a word of together and partnership.

 Welcome to the new year, enjoy the spring like green freshness the new year brings with us and to us.

Long Winter and Welcome Spring

 I’m sitting in the garden, enjoying the feel of sun on my back and dirt on my knees.  I know the feeling of early spring, it is when my bare feet feel grass damp and chill with dew, and when you stand in one spot for a moment the warming soil feels lovely.

Temperatures dropped and then stayed below freezing in the Midwest over the winter.  What is of course expected to be a cold season; stayed sub-zero for a longer time than normal.  The permafrost crept further through the soil as the snow and ice continued to accumulate on top; making nothing quite as welcoming as a fire in the stove and a bracing cup of hot coffee.  Small talk conversations everywhere centered on cold weather and wondering when spring would come.

February came and not surprisingly passed in winter’s chill.  March promised a thaw as the sun showed itself more, but plunged back into freezing temperatures again.  April is purported to bring showers, but I think I remember snow instead!  May has arrived though, bringing the long sought spring.

Waiting through winter’s reluctant change to spring’s entry, the green of new leaves, bright daffodil blooms, and the bright purple of the redbud trees are doubly welcome.  I find myself examining each plant to see if it has survived the prolonged cold, surveying for buds and promise of leaves.  Nothing is exempt in my search for new spring life, from tall trees to the newly planted seeds.  Waiting impatiently for blooms to appear, I expect the warmth of the sun and the moisture of the rains to have encouraged spring to occur in each plant, large and small.

Life has seasons of winter as well, sometimes seeming everlasting frigid cold without the hint of a spring has arrived to stay.  It’s those days of cold darkness (though it may be 100 degrees outside), that we are tasting bitter hurts. How do we keep our eyes toward the spring to come instead of the frozen temperatures we are currently in? Sitting in the garden this past weekend, putting seeds in the ground and anticipating seeing the new sprouts soon reminded me of how we look for heart winters to pass as well.

Winters of the heart, be it from stress, hurt, anger, grief, or a combination of them all, can chill our world as much as that accumulative snow and deepening permafrost.  We tend to pull back, hibernating in our hurts and hope for the sun to come back out.  But, in the midst of the deep winter, it is time to look at garden catalogues!  Dream of summer days, plan for gardens, and get that soil ready for new seeds.  It isn’t ignoring the winter, but it is planning ahead – looking ahead – hoping ahead – for the thaw to come.  Seeds of friendship, good changes to come, familial support, and leaning on Jesus are to be planted in a soil rich in hope, love, and the faithfulness of God. Keep watering, keep waiting and watching with anticipation and when spring comes, so do new plants of great good. 

I am looking forward to being out in the garden.  

My sun hat is ready; the seedlings are beautifully green and growing every day.  Bring on the spring!

Taking It All With Me

The trip is winding down, and here at about a half-way point between the Black Hills and home in Iowa, it’s time to get some sleep.  Packing up this morning, rarely my favorite thing to do, I was consoling myself that even though I was leaving a beautiful place, I was going to take many things back with me. 

The buffalo herd moves across the grasses, mostly in a slow and loose conglomeration of shaggy creatures.  Babies test out their legs, and discover hopping and running to their great joy.  The mamas look as if they hope the babies will do several more laps to be naptime ready sooner rather than later.  The herd sentries grunt back and forth; passing along directional, pace, and herd behavior instructions.  Rolling in the dust, sturdy buffalo legs stretch in wallowing holes to take dust baths.  Tiny cow birds gather around the buffalo, partners in their environment.  The calves stretch out next to their mommas, soak in the sun, and wake recharged and hungry.  They try to add their own grunts, with baby voices that are much higher than the adults surrounding them.  I will take them with me.

Antelope, elegant creatures of patterned colors, perch high on hills and low in the gullies.  They tend to pretend that human viewers are simply not there, conspicuously ignoring the person within view.  Watching the antelope, quietly munching the grasses and moving along the hill lines, I love their patterned looks and the sounds of their quiet grass clipping.  I will take them with me.

Sylvan Lake, Legion Lake, Stockade Lake, and several other lake spots reflect the pines, snow, and rock formation.  The ducks and geese that make their homes in the waters take turns honking and quacking at each other, flapping around in a merry chase of territorial nesting crankiness.  The air is full of pine smell, clean and sweet.  The water, still frozen in some places, is cold with spring snow melt.  Little fish dart in and out of the cattails.  Tiny birds played as they move in and out of the reeds.  An osprey dipped and dove into the waters.  The trails around the ponds and lakes are each different.  The Sylvan Lake path leads past the waters framed in low rocks to a path sided by tall rock walls.  The pines and birch trees close to the rocks are still encased in thick snows.  Higher up, where the sun is hitting, the snow has melted to form icicles that glow in the sunshine like jewels.  I will take them with me.

Blue birds perch on the fences and bird houses.  Tiny spots of sky blue, they are like little sky streaks that dart around.  The females are toned in browns, like little paintings that reflect the good soils and stones around them, delicate in coloring and well disguised in their environment.  The meadow lark sings the most beautiful song, loudly and joyfully from tree branches, fence posts, and anywhere else they can find.  Yellow, with a swirl of black on their chest, these birds are as beautiful to see as they are to hear.  Magpies, white

and dark blue, dart about as if they are the supermodels and everyone else should pause to watch.  They are beautiful, and I do pause.  A strutting turkey, fluffed up and gliding over pine needle covered ground attempting, all in the attempt to impress a hen was a beautiful sight.  She was even chasing him for a few minutes, so apparently it was working.  The gobble gobble and cluck cluck of the turkey was fun to hear.  The pheasants, hawks, burrowing owls, and noisy crows were all there and all so wonderful to see.  I will take them with me.

I have met wonderful people.  A woman on an adventure who displays warmth and caring in her work, will have a collection of stories that is worthy of writing in a much shared book.  A local small store owner brings Bob the Manager to the store each day to “work” as a greeter.  Bob is a liver colored lab who likes belly rubs and to show off his big blue toy bone.  The Custer Chamber of Commerce awarded Bob as having friendliest customer service; all because his person brought him to work and let those who visit the store enjoy that personality.  Another woman has picked up the pieces of her life and found a passion for photography that has inspired her to make more than a so-so existence, but to enrich the lives of others around her.  I felt as if she was looking to share, as one who cares about an art wants to share it with another.   A gentleman is warmly greeting guests, even as he is a guest here.  I hope that he feels as welcome

in the Custer area as he made us feel.  A retired rancher, working at the Wild Horse Sanctuary, let me see the plains through his eyes.  Grasses, sustainability, the balance cycle of predator and prey, water conservation, and the joy of spring’s arrival from the presence of a burrowing owl were only the frosting on the cupcake.  His love of the horses and caring for them and their preservation was something that could be described more as a passion than a job.  People who have greeted, smiled, welcomed, and been kind – I will take them with me.

Snow falling so gently while enveloped in the heat of the steam and water of a hot tub, watching deer eat their dinner just beyond the pines from the same hot tub, and the sound of migratory ducks and geese as they fly over - they are all cabin memories.  Tucked near an outcropping of rock, the cabin was a quiet landing place at the end of a day.  With a gas stove fire started, the living room was toasty and the perfect place to end a day flipping through pictures.  A kind hearted woman owns the cabins and so wants to share her joy of the cabins with those who stay there.  I will take these with me.

These are just a few of the things I will take home with me.  I packed them all so gently in my luggage and have them with me even now.  They are many more, and those also I will take with me.

New Leaves

We had our first spring rain a few days ago.  With a pro-longed drought and not nearly enough snow to alleviate the dryness, I welcome the sound of the water falling.  Splat, splat, splat on the skylight; what a wonderful sound to my ears; a few streaks of lightning framed the sky for moments like a brilliant photographers flash.  The dirt, dust, and ash that had been forming minute clouds down that traveled down the driveway were tamped back down with the moisture. 

I have thought that the change from no leaves, to little buds, to the first tentative green leaves, to full blown summery green leaves seems like a magical thing.  Somehow it goes from shades of tan, grey, and white (with any remaining snow), to a light green haze and then – POOF – there are leaves!  How did that happen?  I want to sit up some night, sitting at a bonfire, and watch for leaves to make their appearance.

These little green dots on the landscape make me think of what areas in my life might be in winter dormancy.  What needs a spring thaw to bud and form new shoots?  Hummm…. Spring thoughts can be dangerous. 

Iris

   This is iris season, and it seems in many yards, there are a variety of blooms gracing carefully arranged gardens complimenting front porches, sidewalk shoulders, and simple gatherings of flower clumps.  The colors and their variety are really astounding.  Russet reds, sunny yellows, purple splashes, and pure white can be the sole color or a mix of patterns that draws the eye in.  Green stalk leaves shoot up surrounding the flowers, like spear bearing foot men protecting their ladies grace. 

   I love spring flowers.  Not just because it’s wonderful to drink in the color after a long white winter, but as a sign in and of themselves of renewal that is coming.  But, I think one of the favorite parts of the iris for me is the variety and diversity of them.  So many beautiful colors, sizes, and complexity of blooms can be combined in one flower bed.  They all complement each other, each one adding it own shade of color depth.  I have a great privilege of enjoying many diverse people around me.  From different parts of the country, different countries, the people are all so different, and yet so similar.  It is something I enjoy to be able to see the depth of diversity in that human garden. 

   I think the other thing that I love about irises, and many flowers in general, is that they are something that the humblest and richest of us can enjoy.  Shared by many green thumbed gardeners who discover that they have a commonality in the love of growing things, clumps, clippings, and seeds are shared over fences and around organizations.  I see a very humble home many times in a week, it is not the most beautiful home or most elaborate.  Instead, it looks as if it needs a great deal of care.  But, in a side yard carefully tended clump are a mixture of yellow irises.  It’s like a bit of sunshine that landed in their yard and decided that it liked the green so much it would stay. 

    I love flowers, but I don’t love to weed!  Oh it comes in fits and starts where I want to get stick my hands into garden gloves and feel the pull of the weeds and the smell of the warm dirt.  I do enjoy seeing the cleanly orderliness of the flower beds afterwards.  But, in my mind – I pull weeds once in the year and it should just be done!  Some of those weeds are just annoyingly persistent.  And that is one of the thins that I also applaud irises and other flowers for when they don’t need a lot of tending.  These are no fragile hot house flowers that will wilt if they do not receive 4.2 hours of sunlight and 14 tablespoons of filtered water in an eyedropper.  Okay, so I exaggerate (a bit), but these are hardy flowers.  The bulbs are placed in the earth and there they will come and grow and spread for years.   It is their resilience in a Midwest that often faces snow and ice storms over long winter months.  I want to be resilient as well, to be planted in good soil and then allowed to grow and bloom yearly. 

    Enjoy the blooms from the yard.

Spring Porch Sitting

    My green plastic chair sits on the front porch and my feet are rested up on the porch post, causing the chair to tip back just a bit to the perfect angle.  With the sun shining, a book in my lap, and the quiet around, I find one of my favorite parts of spring.  It is in the quiet of human sounds, and the increase of the nature sounds around me.  Winter’s quiet gives way to the noise and riotous color of spring as if the very bubbling of life is something that cannot be held back. 

   I sit there, to take it in and read when I remember.  I breathe deep and smell the purple smells of lilac, the light fragrance of green leaves, and warming smell of soil.  A chickadee grand stands from the tip of a tall pine tree.  Chest puffed out, it rills it’s song and sings loud and sweet music.  The notes are intricate and the music seems so large from such a tiny bird. 

   Another page in my book is turned and then I watch the dogs splash about in their kiddy pool.  “Splash Sierra!”  becomes a common cry over the summer on the porch.  She will send water flying behind her, creating a mini tidal wave in a green plastic pool.  Her dark eyes are happy with this first splashing time of the year.  Personally, I think the water is still quite cold and will wait for the sun to warm it.  So, I skirt her splashes for now, and help her stay pointed towards me, and the water away.

   There is just so much to see I can hardly stand to read my book.  Nestling down into my chair, feet up, Diet Pepsi by my hand, and my book resting on my lap, I feel myself warmed by the sun.  I try to soak up the heat, the smell, the feel of spring.  

Yearly Spring Watch

   Every year I look forward to seeing the trees bud out, the first blossoms prepare to bloom, and the smell of the season change to reflect the earth’s soil melting the ice coat it has had all winter. Somehow each year I miss the moment when the season changes. Not the calendar date that marks when spring officially begins, but the actual moment when the leaves start sprouting and budded flowers start blooming. I think it must happen overnight in the blink of an eye. One moment, everything is still and cautious again late snowfalls and frosts. And then the next moment, caution is thrown aside and the leaves come out. Soon, the trees contain a haze of fresh green and the ground a landscape of littered leaf protectors.

   It seems that normally when the first day occurs that I am at work. The weather is perfect, a light breeze and the temperatures are not too high, and I’m stuck inside. So, this Sunday was such a wonderful anomaly. Sitting in a dark green plastic chair, with my feet propped up on a bright yellow children’s plastic slide I found myself sinking lower and lower as my mid section relaxed into the beautiful day. A book in hand, my Diet Pepsi sitting next to the chair’s legs, and the dogs wandering about the yard finding sticks to eat on – what a lovely way to kick off spring.

Approach

   Spring is coming, it really is. Between the robins and a tiny little green leaf sticking out of a sidewalk crack, I’m sure that it is coming. There are all of these beautiful little signs, and then Boom! A crack of lightning strikes, the temperatures plummet and ice coats the twigs again. Late snows, mud, thunder, and a cold rain are also parts of spring. Spring approaches and it can be tumultuous as the warmth approaches.

   If I didn’t know that spring was coming, and that soon the flowers were to be budding, I would probably wonder at it’s approach. Is it worth it, to see flowers, to go through the cold and mud and storms? Sometimes, our life is about to open into a spring. There are flowers and warm sunny days right around the corner. But, as it approaches, all we can see are the turbulent days which occur leading up to the seasonal change. Without the approach of spring, those flowers wouldn’t have the moisture in the ground for growth, we wouldn’t have the food we need for growth.
   Give it time, keep looking for spring’s approach.

Spring is Coming

   It is unmistakable, the first signs of spring are being shown. I love snow, but it is good to feel the sun and it’s warmth. Soon, the flowers will be blooming and the air will be full of their smell.

   Each season is so different. I love the feel of fresh snow, powdery and deep. I like to really dress in all the snow gear and then head out at night with the dogs. Just sinking down into it, leaning back and watching the stars. It’s beautiful; the intense quiet, and the brightness of the sun on the snow.
   Spring comes in with a passion of storms and a swirl of bright colors. The air itself changes it’s fragrance and becomes full of the smell of earth. The ground soaks in the moisture and the green starts returning to the yard. Tree buds are just a moment away. I know that they open secretly, because I go to bed one night and they are buds. The next morning, there are tiny leaves.
   Summer comes with its heat and the smell of sun block. Summer vacations are planned and the anticipation that has lasted all winter and spring now comes to fruition. The earth is warm under my feet, and I begrudge my time in shoes. Summer rains are something to walk in, to sit on the front porches with porch swings, and enjoy the sound of the rain.
   Fall, every fall I think it’s my favorite. The color, the smell, the “lullaby of the leaves”. Red, yellow, and orange colors are painted onto the leaves by the Great Painter and the world takes on a new due of color. The yellow leaves are my favorite, it seems like sunshine on the top and on the bottom.
  So, I’m saying good-bye to winter and hello to spring. Especially since I have seen a robin and a bug in the yard! It’s a sure sign.

Seasons and Roadmaps II

   The fall wind has been blustery these past few days. The leaves are being blown off the most stalwart of fall leaved trees and creating a staccato dance across the driveway. The windows have creaked and the door shifted in its frame as the air has moved so powerfully. As the temperatures fall below freezing, it is quite evident that fall is in full swing and winter will be arriving soon. There are many here who do not care for the snow and the cold winds of winter, many who would prefer warmer and balmier temperatures.

   But, just consider for a moment a different view, that of a macro-economist. That view would say that the snow and cold temperatures are valuable because it kills of germs in the soil. We have more productive growing seasons than those around the equator because of that cold.
   So, with that in mind, we have seasons in life as well. There are days when things are balmy and warm. The sun just feels perfect and a light breeze is keeping the temperature nice. These are the days when everything is going well, life is a smile. We have summer.
   There are times when the world changes color, we feel a little dryer, a bit shriveled inside and watch as the color we normally don’t present to the world becomes first and foremost. We find ourselves losing our leaves, bare before the world. We have fall.
   There are times when the snow falls, and though it is beautiful, it is also bitter cold and austere. The silence is loud, and our ears hear everything move. We long for the warmth of a friendly comfort, a soft blanket, a roaring fire, or a comfortable sweater. We have winter.
   There are times when everything seems to be growing and moving. We may be experiencing growing pains, but we are seeing results. It takes work and time, effort and sweat equity, but the reward is visible and wonderful to see. We have spring.
   We have all of these seasons in our lives, many times over. But, the beauty is that there is more than one, and we will move through them to provide growth. Remember the economist, the soil is better for the freeze of the winter, the heat of the summer, the cool rains of fall, and the warming sunshine of spring. We are also often better for the hardships, the trials, and the rests of warmth.

Seasons and Roadmaps

   Each changing season seems to lead me to want to travel someplace different. The blustery weather that we awoke to yesterday here in our corner of the state had me dreaming of getting in the car and heading off down the road, but to where?

   The fall winds blow, the leaves start making their showy appearance and I start dreaming of South Dakota. The last warmth to find the plains before the beginning of the wintry snow that will sweep through the grasses. I so would love to find myself winding the way through the pine trees as the snow starts, and then watching the buffalo walk through the whiteness, creating a path with their amazingly deft mass.
   Or the cool wetness of a spring day, whisking me off to Alaska in July; the feel of the water into the air, the vapor of the sea moist and salty to the touch. Blooms are fragrant and the leaves are deep shades of green.
  As I prepare to travel now, I think of other places I have been fortunate enough to see. There is such a beautiful world out there, so many roads to travel. I’m excited to be off and exploring.

Ear Pops

Recently I had a cold, just the normal sinus pressure, sneezing, and runny nose. My ears also felt so full, everything was in a bit of a tunnel with sound. I said huh and what a lot. Several days later my right ear popped. POP and suddenly it was like the volume level jumped up. Things that I could not hear before, or was unaware of, suddenly came rushing in.

It was really nice being able to hear, but it reminded me of how we can walk around in a fog, and then suddenly it all lifts. We can see and hear clearly for the first time in a while, or perhaps ever. Isn’t it interesting that we can walk around in a fog for so long that we forget what clear looks like. Well, interesting in a sad way. But, then the fog lifts and who knew that there was so much to see!
I have been rejoicing in watching the trees and flowers, the birds and squirrels as they all seem to enjoy the new spring. Sitting under the pine trees and smelling the lilacs, it’s been a great start to spring. For me, sometimes fog especially comes in trying to understand God’s plan and His Word. Puzzling over the same verse over and over, I find that when I quite myself and remember to stop and ask God first for His wisdom, that the fog will lift. Then, when this occurs it’s like the ears pop, the fog lifts, and suddenly everything is so much clearer.

Tree Songs and Goose Honking

I can’t say I try to be normal, it’s not that I usually try to go out of my way to be different, I just am. How are you different you might ask? Well, I find myself signing just about everywhere I go. Yes, I know that I am not living in a musical, but there is just so much music around us.


Again, that may be a bit different, but not really strange – I mean other people may sing too. Then, I find myself at the park, singing to the goose. Let me back up and describe the scene. It was a late winter snow, thick and beautiful. A frost had settled onto the branches and each little stub of tree that is now starting to hold leaves. Coming down the hill, I stopped at the pond. Ice coated part of the pond, creating a small patch of water where the geese were gathering. They paddles around a bit, rather lazily, occasionally flapping wing and diving under the water in search of fish. Getting out of my car, I noticed how quiet it was. I just love that about snow. And in me, a song welled up, “Great is thy faithfulness….” Standing alone on the deck, watching the geese watch me, I sang (loudly) to the geese and the trees and anyone else listening. Frankly, most of the geese didn’t seem to care. But, one honked back at me. It wasn’t the evil goose honk that geese can do when they are in an attitude mood. Instead, it was more benign, more like it was joining in. Behind me, I could hear the branches creaking on the trees, ever so slightly moving. It felt like I was in the middle of a symphony of sound, a praise of God from many species of life.


I was reminded of this last night when reading in my devotions, Isaiah referred to the trees clapping their hands. I love that! That jogged the memory of reading how the stones would have cried out if the people had not as Jesus entered Jerusalem. What beautiful symphony is around us, tree songs and goose honkings, that we miss out on by not paying attention? As spring is here, sounds of the earth coming back to wakefulness abound – I want to take time to enjoy them and to remember, that great indeed is God’s faithfulness. Maybe they will even let me sing along.

Spring Suddenness

I am always amazed at the suddenness of spring. You wait for months, amidst beautiful snow covered days, and not so lovely icy driving conditions, for spring. The trees stand there, doing tree things, sleeping I think in the winter. Using their roots to seek for deep warmth and sources of food, and reaching up to the sun for any vestiges of heat. Then it happens, the snow melts away, the ground warms up and you wait. When will the leaves come? When will the first blooms appear? One night it is all dingy green and then the next morning, daffodil stems are showing up. Buds start forming on trees. Then, again in a sudden fashion, the leaves are starting to show up.

I love the suddenness of spring, though I do think of sitting up some time with a light and watching the changes happen. You know, sitting out with a flashlight and a lawn chair, a blanket and some snacks – snacks are a must. Sitting there, blanket wrapped, and flashlight in hand, I wonder if I could see that moment happen, when the leaf appears. That moment when the tree determines it’s time to have leaves for the new spring.

Lessons from the Fig Tree

If you keep reading Matthew 24, Jesus goes on to provide examples of the signs of the upcoming season.  There are a "darkened sun, a lightless moon, falling stars, and the shaking of the heavenly bodies.  The list goes on, the Son of Man appearing in the sky, the nations of the earth, the power and glory of the Son of Man as he comes on the clouds.  Angels and trumpets, trumpets with some volume, and the gathering of the elect," (Matthew 24:29-31).

That sounds like quite the tumult to me.  Shaking, falling, this way and that way - rather chaotic.  And yet, I know that God is a God of order.  Thus, it is following a plan.  Which reminds me of the way seasons change.  Here in the Midwest, we see snow, rain, sleet, tornadoes, and sudden heat waves plunging into cold snaps as part of the transition into summer.  There are signs present which give us a warning or heads up that the change is coming. 

In much the same way, we have these changing things mentioned as something to make us aware that the Son of Man is coming to gather his elect.  In fact, Jesus goes so far as to point this out with the fig tree lesson.  "As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near.  Even so, when you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door.  I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away," (Matthew 24:32-35). 

Lessons from the Fig Tree - enjoy spring!

Spring Beckons

We have had a few days with sunshine here in the wintry Mid West. Though the rushing cold of the wind may take your breath away, there is new warmth in the sun. I sat down in my car a few days ago, and just relished the heat I could feel on my back, through the many layers, where the car had been sitting in the sun.


Winter is beautiful. Crystalline ice sculptures, snow that reflects the moonlight and sunlight, even the mist coming off of the Mississippi River through the cracks in the ice. Eagles have gathered in the trees, the cardinals stand out with their scarlet regalia. The two red foxes frequenting the yard stand out. Seeing them wiggle about in the snow, much like a long nose and busy tailed puppy, have been a delight.

Yet, spring beckons. When I think of spring though, it’s not just warmth or green. It starts with a smell. The first time that I smell the smell of earth, thawing under my feet. Then, the yearly contest of who can see the first robin begins. When that little bird appears, bright eyed and rose colored, my entire countenance feels like it’s gotten a vacation. Slowly buds appear, then suddenly overnight it seems that God told them to open. The world will fill back up with green. Early flowers, sweet hyacinths and crocus blossoms dare even the chilliest snows. Orion will take his place lower in my horizon in those warmer clear nights and the Big Dipper will slowly rise. Dreams of tomato plants, zucchini, and green beans start filling my head.

The purple vetch, that somehow even smells purple, is just a little ways away. The leaves will fill out, the river thaw, and the eagles return to their northerly summer homes. Spring will beckon.

Seasons Strung Together

Every year, when I start thinking about the approach of spring, I find myself turning to a favorite author, J.R.R. Tolkien.  The words that he wrote somehow seem to help me find the patience that I will need in a few months as winter lingers and spring dawdles in its approach.

His writings strung together many chapters, characters, locations, and plot lines into multiple books to tell one story.  Each one has a part to play, and from those words I have to admit I find something new every time.  Today, these words struck me…

“‘And it is not our part here to take thought only for a season, or for a few lives of Men, or for a passing age of the world. We should seek a final end of this menace, even if we do not hope to make one.’”

There is wisdom here that I just love.  Things get hard and it is so tempting sometimes to aim for a quick fix.  Slap a little duct tape on that baby and let’s just keep on moving.  For instance, I had a menace of my own in my life, a menace of fear.  Lurking in shadows, it sought to paralyze me.  Whenever I had to move, to act that menace would be there.  At some point though, I realized that I had to deal with it, that it was a growing threat in my life.  But, I couldn’t just slap some psychological duct tape on it.  I had to deal with it, taking a hard look at why I was fearful and how I could address it.  No, it was not my part to only think of that season, maybe I could just hide for a while and let the worst of it pass.  Instead, I had to seek an end of this menace in my life. 

For me, it comes in bits and pieces, it is not cleared up in its entirety.  Only tonight it lingered about, trying to waft that sickly sweet smell towards me of nervousness with just a twinge more.  But, I hold to the promise that God did not give me a spirit of fear.  This was not his gift, so I’m not accepting it.  Instead I cling to that hope and keep journeying to make an end to this menace in my life.  It has become part of the story, part of the season.  I cannot remove it or it would remove part of who I am.  Instead, the seasons are strung together and together form the story line.