Yesterday I posted about my lingering lunch with a good book in a sunny window and my decision for a leisurely drive home by the lake.
Today’s news recounts police action, a multi vehicle crash, injuries and a fatality in the time, on the road, and in the space I would have travelled had I taken the direct route.
I sit and tremble in awe and gratitude for life and safety.
I’ve read some posts the last several years on choosing a word or words to frame the coming year. Recently I read the added suggestion of choosing a picture to focus your view. I’ve been pondering these thoughts and the words that seem to have chosen me are Fearless, Joy-filled, and Colorful. I liked the idea of a picture but had no idea of how a picture could represent this.
As I sat at the table this morning and gazed out into the early morning light I was astonished to see robins pecking away at the frozen birdbath. I smiled and thought, The perfect picture!
If you are interested in this concept please read Bonnie’s post http://www.faithbarista.com/2011/01/what-builds-your-confidence/
The kitchen floor bore silent witness to the mayhem.
chop fine
add gradually
sift together, stir, mix well
beat in, stir in, blend thoroughly, combine, beat till fluffy
boil, cool, melt
scrape, scoop, drop, spread, shape, mold, turn out, roll out, cut
cover, chill, let sit overnight
bake, let cool
while hot, pour on glaze
Perhaps you recognize these terms as instructions for creating cookies, cakes, breads or pies, some of those special taste delights of the Christmas season.
Sometimes, however, they might seem like descriptions of how you or I might feel treated or treat others during this season of wonder and awe. No wonder the tart response to showing off an apron creation – “Christmas should wear an apron!”
So I work to remind myself as I go about to wear my inner apron to serve a smile of kindness, a cup of comfort, glad tidings to the weary or a blessing of peace to the fearful. Things might get messy like my kitchen floor, but the results can be sweet.
This Christmastide I too wish for you “that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.” 3John3
I’m hanging away the freshly laundered, pressed “for best” tablecloth. I hadn’t planned to use it, but I’m glad that I did.
I had set out the Grandparents’ anniversary china with all its golden fancy. I love it for the stories that came with it and as the years have gone by, I’ve used it for many Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners enjoying the warmth and sparkle it brings to the table. The dishes make me smile. In spite of the elegance of gold, each piece is a little out of kilter and some are a bit flawed. In a way, they seem like family, all golden lovely but a bit flawed in the matching.
With the china came an exquisite hand embroidered table cloth – too special to use. This year when I went to the closet, I wondered why I was saving it. The size is perfect for the table and as I spread it carefully, I thought of the woman who invested countless hours creating such beauty in the later years of her life and I thought of her daughter-in-law who fearlessly gave tribute to occasions and her guests by using “the best” and most beautiful linens.
When we gathered round the table, the cloth was admired and I told a little of its story and mentioned that I wasn’t saving it anymore. In the quiet, my brother-in-law fingered the stitches gently with his work worn hands and thanked me for using it. I saw other fingers trace the stitched and as I looked at each face, I knew I had, in fact, saved it for the best. And, in a strange way it seemed as if the aged cloth imparted a kind of grace and dignity to the evening, a tribute to Thanksgiving and our guests.
I’m wondering what other things might be tucked in drawer or box or heart being saved “for best”. Best is now.
We went for a walk on a nearby trail. It was a glorious day and the old railroad bed wound around giving glimpses of the stream. Then the path followed along a cut in the rocks. Amazingly, trees were growing out of the rock wall plunging roots into cracks barely seen and somehow growing strong there while sending down roots in search of good soil and more nutrients. The scene is somewhat surreal as ferns grow and tufts of grasses hang on too. In the shadow of all this unexpected life I wondered what tales of pain and growth would be told by rock and plant as they cling together.
Life. We so need each other for nourishment and growth. Sometimes we seem as different from each other as rock and plant but growth happens if we allow ourselves to give and take.
Have you ever stood on the hard packed sand at the edge of the sea? It seems so solid and supportive, till the incoming tide waves wrap around you and retreat carrying the sand from beneath your feet leaving you unsteady, off-kilter and hurriedly seeking sure footing. But all is sand and its constant shifting in wind and water.
Life can be like that too. I think I have firm footing but a wave of change comes and unsettles me and I turn and struggle to run and miss the beauty and power of it.
I was hurried. Earlier vehicle failure had rearranged my time and rain had added to the unpleasantness of inconvenience. As I went about, the rain cleared leaving fall cool. At one stop, my attention was on the parking lot traffic but as I walked along I caught a glimpse of color. A discarded leaf lay there like a love note left for me. And I noticed that my day was much brighter than before.
Sometimes our plans are upturned, things become difficult for a season.
We clean up and go on, changed but hopeful!
Every year I look forward to it. That special September or October morning everything changes – the air, the light, the very feel of things.
Fall has come, slipping into the neighborhood in the night. The visit is short and glorious.
May is a month of promise here. The gardens come more alive. The golden light sparkles the morning dew. Bird song is quieter now, some only making their presence known by the rustle of wings meant to distract me as I near a hidden nest.
Some long ago May promises continue to unfold in beauty. Today, the 42 anniversary of one dear sister and her hubby; and next week, we’ll cheer the golden 50 years of our sweet sister and her man.
And then for us, we’ll celebrate our own precious hope in our daughter’s birth and life. I’ve been planning to re-do her baby book, but I don’t get very far. Each time I look back I’m caught up in her smiles as at the first and smile in response andwonder at the promise of her life still to come.