Sky High Love

Taking the dogs out once more before going to bed, my eyes turned to the sky and I felt my feet come to a standstill on the driveway. Over and around me, the sky stretched out; immense and painted with color, patterns and textures that more than rivaled the master painters. Because I have the habit to sing, well – anywhere; a song came out, "His Eye is on the Sparrow.” All I could do was stand, stare and sing; and of course keep an eye on the dogs who might go wandering.   

“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him” Psalm 103:11

 

Just thinking of the space between where my toes met the ground below and the reach of the heavens above, the immensity of the love described was breathtaking. I stretched out my arms, filled up my lungs with air, and took up only a tiny fraction of that space. 

Such love can feel too large and powerful for me to comprehend; beautifully overwhelming to the touch and sight. I think this is why the thought of the sparrow is the one that first came to me.

“And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”  Luke 12:6b-7

The tiny bird that many would deem to be insignificant is not forgotten by the Creator. The knower of the large and small, is in the magnificence of the heavens and in the infinite subtlety of a tiny creature of flight. As I continue to view the sky, my heart was full to overflowing. 

Looking at Pumpkins

Pumpkins come in all of these really fun varieties.  They are white, green, orange, striped, mottled, big, small, oblong, perfectly round, squat, skinny, fat, bumpy and smooth.  They can have stems that are large, small, short and long. In all of these shapes, you can see in pumpkins how creation has this wonderful echo throughout, design elements are used in clever ways over and over.    

A pumpkin sitting on the bale of straw in the front of the house caught my eye. I noticed that it wasn’t truly just orange.  It was like a faux finish of orange, on top of a cheery yellow.  It looked rather sunny.  In face it looked rather like photos of the sun.  Seemingly random bits of orange in thicker and thinner patterns cover the surface, like it could have a pumpkin flavored solar flare from any moment. 

I have met people that are like this.  They just seem to burst with life and joy.  They are encouraging, vivacious, and warming – just like the sun.  I have also noticed that these tend to be multi-faceted individuals who have experienced flares in life and learned from them; using them later to bring warmth, comfort and courage to others. These are people I, and others, want to be around as they are drawn to the genuine caring.

This is a wonderfully green and orange pumpkin with deep grooves that lead to a valley where the stem is.  That stem, with a round of green at its base rises up like a mountain out of a plain.  Variances of color and a twist of the stem leave the tip of the stem uneven; undoubtedly a peak weathered with many mountainous weather fronts.

There are a few women who I have met that are many years young, and in years of age rather elderly.  And they have done that gracefully. They are like these mountains rising out of the plains, standing as beautiful monuments. Wrinkles, lines and scars indicate the weathering they have witnessed. But they still stand, and gather life in beautiful ecosystems around them. Water flows from snow capped peaks to nourish the cycle of life. They share their wisdom, gracefully and lovingly; they relinquish controls that I think would be very difficult to relinquish. Not placing their value in the ability to do, but in being. 

Is it a pumpkin, or is it art in pottery?  Something in a light tree trunk brown with a crackled white glaze.  The small lines of tannin peek through the white and remind me of the shape of waves moving through the ocean.  Lines indicate movement, just as those cresting waves show the movements of the wind and water. 

The artists, entrepreneurs, movers of large and small movements; those who see an idea in their mind and heart and then go about trying it – these are people who enrich the world around them. Encouraging by example to do, experiment, hypothesize, research – to try; these are the people who I think teach me bravery to move.  To move with the wind and the water, and know that perhaps I will find myself on new shores.

I’m going to keep looking, who knows what other worlds will be seen; microcosm within a macrocosm.

Time Travel on the Driveway

Time has been on the minds of people for a long time. Our myths from centuries back tell stories of time travel, moving forward or backward in time, being able to see what is coming or what happened. We seem to be fascinated with time, time management, time efficiencies, and making the world ever smaller in ever faster technologies. Whether it is a desire to see what will come, has gone, or a way to pause; the need to slow down is one that hits me regularly. I need to slow down, taking time to think about and look at the world around me. It is recharging for me and lets me gather perspective as I listen for a quiet voice of God.

I’m reminded of this need to slow down every time I come down the driveway. There are many kinds of driveways, concrete and asphalt, gravel and dirt. My driveway is a mix of gravel, dirt, and asphalt chunks. It is rutted and uneven in places where water has cut trenches through and left hills and valleys. It needs some work. But, part of me really likes the driveway this way. It forces whoever is coming to the house to slow down; to watch out for dogs that don’t get out of the way of cars and to be on the lookout for rabbits that believe strongly in perpetual rabbit right-of-way. It is a reminder to me to slow down, such an important reminder in our fast paced world.           

I wouldn’t want to give up my cell phone, email, facebook, and other media timesaving technologies forever. What I do want to do is create a balance with reminders that often cause me to pause and look around. Yesterday, I looked up and saw a cloud move across the morning sky. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, and the clouds still had a heavy grey look to them. I thought they looked thick until I saw a lacey view of the moon, edged in a graceful and moving frame. This morning, a golden fog caught the sunlight and let it display its beams suspended in droplets of vapor. The feel of autumn crispness is reflected in the crispness of sweet red and tart green autumn apples. Beautiful fawns have lost their spots, and are now preparing for winter’s cold by growing out their thick fuzzy coats. Their mouths seem to be in a perpetual state of chewing as they utilize the end of summer foliage to prepare for the upcoming chill. A small moth landed on the window, spread its wings and sunned itself in a wonderful leaf disguise.

Maybe our many myths and scientific studies of time travel can be brought to our daily lives by stopping to breathe in the smells, watch for the wispy clouds, feel the sun-filled water droplets in the foggy air, and slow down when coming down the driveway.

Buckets of Refreshing

Overall, this summer has been extremely pleasant for someone who is not a fan of high heat.  Cool days and cooler nights have come to a temporary end as the heat arrived and seems to want to stay.  My plants that seemed refreshed and able to handle the heat this morning were bowed down and droopy by this afternoon.  The soil seemed as if the moisture was evaporated out at such a rate that what was okay this morning was completely dry by evening.  Grabbing the bucket and filling it up multiple times from the garden hose, plants were watered slowly.  Too fast and the water just rolls off.  Slowly, repetitively, water needs to be added, allowing it to sink in.  One time watered, two time watered, and slowly I watched the water sink in.  After an evening and night to soak in the new water, tomorrow the plants will be recharged.  Of course, that is water for one day.  Tomorrow evening, in this heat, water will also be needed again.

I feel like these plants sometimes.  The heat of a busy day arrives and what started out as refreshed ends as drooped and bowed to the sun.  I can feel dried out, over extended and badly in need of refreshing.  In fact, I’ve been feeling that way in the last few months off and on.  Wonderful opportunities to be involved in so many different projects and activities, doing great things to serve – things I want to do.  But, without refreshing I will be as dry as that dirt.  Yet, I have noticed that as refreshing comes from the Lord, and it does come, it comes like the water from the bucket – a little at a time.  It came in watching fawns for some time this afternoon.  It came from an unexpected encounter waving to a friend during an afternoon.  It came from seeing a shooting star, a hummingbird, and a friend’s smile.  A child’s exuberant and unencumbered praise of Christ, the time in prayer, and the words of the Bible all come like cool water and refresh my spirit. 

Yes, I do bow with the heat and the dryness that life can bring, just with the schedule of things I love to do.  And yet, I am continuing to find each day, buckets slowly added to bring refreshing.  

Summer Blooms – Worlds in a Clay Pot

Blooms have been numerous in the yard this year; little swirls and dabs and swaths of color that highlight their pots.  They are a living painting, moving and swirling over the yard.  Rather than writing about them, I thought I would share a few pictures.  Try to imagine the birds singing, an occasional cricket to hop about, the buzz of the bees, sounds and feels of the breeze, and the warmth of the sun.  

Perspectives from Marigolds

Just spent a few minutes dead-heading the marigolds in the yard.  Of all the summer flowers, that is one of my favorites with their little sun spots of color and powerful perfume that the bees and birds love. 

To give the coming and current blooms the most energy from the plant, the dying blooms can be removed in a process called dead-heading.  Just snip the bloom off with your fingers.  I go out and do that every week or so, and that is when you will find my pockets full of marigold flowers as I head back in the house to store my treasure through the rest of the year and into the next spring.  I break up the heads so that the seeds can dry out and be stored.  Then, after the most recent batch has dried, it takes its place in a glass jar to be held until the new spring comes.

Seeing these summer blooms drying up can be kind of a sad thought.  It is a reminder of the opening and closing of life chapters in general.  But, as I look at the pile of seeds ready to dry and be stored, I can’t help but think of the perspective lesson marigolds share.  Life does present us with opening and closings, starts and finishes.  The starts and finishes can be nerve-wracking, happy, grief filled, and joyous.  Needless to say, I can go in fits and starts with openings and closings that do not regularly occur in an all smooth fashion.  New things can make me nervous, even when I’m excited about them.  And, some things I am very glad to see go, while others I miss very much. 

But, marigolds remind me of how these chapter lessons are kind of like these seeds.   The lessons can be dried out and stored for later.  Carefully preserved to be re-planted later, as life seasons change, lessons will come in handy again.  Planted in the next season, they not only re-grow from the seed of that original plant, but produces new seeds as well.  Each season of planting and building, all from one dried up flower head holding marigold seeds.