Category Archives: Writing thoughts

When life overwhelms

There is a saying that comes into my mind this morning – all things continue as they were. It seems to go with my thoughts of yesterday. I was driving with no place to stop to capture the beauty of sky and autumn leaves around me; how could the day be so beautiful? It should be rain to weep for me my unshed tears and hail to match my throbbing head; lightening should rend the heavens and thunder peal for my lack of words.

Have you ever had the loveliest experience and seemed to be ‘walking on air’ in your exuberance? You were so delighted with everything happening in life that you wanted to shout and dance about and shake the gloomy faces around you and tell then that life was wonderful!

Or have you had the worst news ever that tells you life will never be the same for someone you love or yourself and they are the same in your pain? And you want to shake the people laughing and dancing and tell them that life is hard.

We’ve all probably had both, many times, or will. These times seem as relentless as the ocean waves. And we long for calm seas. But they will not carry us anywhere and I must, we must, hope and long for the joy to come again. And I must see the beauty in the ocean power and majesty while wary of the same.

Where does your strength and endurance come from?

The words of a Psalm come to me, “My help comes from the LORD, maker of heaven and earth.” and I go and read the ending, “The LORD will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life, the LORD will watch over your coming and your going both now and forevermore.” And like many before me, I wonder at the words and hope and pray this for the one I love whose hope is small today.

Just taking a walk

I have always loved the cadence and the imagry of George Cooper’s October’s Party.

“October gave a party;

The leaves by hundred’s came…

Then, in a rustic hollow,

At hide and seek they played,

The party closed at sundown,

And everybody stayed.

Professor Wind played louder;

They flew along the ground;

And then the party ended

In jolly “hands around.””

After a night of wind, I walk about crunching leaves underfoot; finding the treasures of the day. The herb and vegetable gardens are ready for their winter resting but I’ve work to do yet in the flower beds. But I dawdle, winding down from summer as if I too had been to some grand party and I want only to re-live the joy and conversation of it.

September dances through

Storms turned the skies to September blue, hostas turned gold, the burning bush flamed, cleomes burst seed and the last of the blue hydrangeas changed to rosey attire.

Some seasons of life I’ve enjoyed the life of a night owl, but I’ve come back to treasuring early time. So I search and photograph and go back into the cozy warmth of kitchen only to be drawn out again knowing the wonder of early light is happening. Moving my chair to face the east where cloud play is illuminated in the rising sun, I huddle into an old quilt with my mug of coffee. And watch. I hear the traffic hum of those on the go and I begin to hear hammering and saws nearby. Work calls but I stay listening to quiet bird calls beginning to sound through the yards.

I lower my eyes to write and suddenly feel like there is a disco ball in the yard! The aspen leaves wave their quivering morning excitement filtering and shattering the light into sparkling pieces as the sun rises through them and the birds sing applause now. The coffee chills but I still sit and wonder why I am not here every morning when dawn calls hope and promise for the day.

With hot coffee, I return to find my quilt like stained glass. A breeze stirs now and the sound of leaves dancing close fills my ears and I huddle again into the quilt and move my chair into the expanding warmth of the ever rising sun. All too soon these days pass and the exuberance of October is upon us!

September 9th musing

Today I remember Mom…

I love the look of expectation on her face in this photo.

I met a distant relative and her first in person words to me were, “You look just like your mother!” And my thought was, “You had not seen her in decades!”

I remember “The Day” in my early teen years when Mom came home from the hairdresser – A Blond! I don’t think I knew anyone whose mom had done such a thing; I was a bit scandalized.

But for Mom, it was a perfect fit with her blue/green eyes and golden skin. She was never going to be grey or white and was always a bit dismayed that I chose that route. I had not the eye color nor the skin tone of a golden girl.

While she was known to take one aside and give a bit of unwanted advice, I don’t think anyone doubted her good intentions. She wanted only the best for her family and gave her best whether she made a favorite dish for a holiday meal, sent a special card, gave a word of encouragement, spent hours on a hand-crocheted afghan, prom dress or even a wedding gown

If you were excited about something, she wanted to be in on the fun. She loved life.

Happy Birthday, Mom, you’re never forgotten.

Remember me…

This afternoon we went to pay respect to the life of an older friend. In these last years that I have known her, her conversation would always flow to family and festivities and the cakes she would be baking. The list of cakes would sometimes include a 1,2,3,4 Cake and always a Hot Milk Sponge Cake, both of which would make me yearn for my mom’s cakes. So we would talk cake and Brownies – actually, she would do the talking, I rarely bake and no one is going to give my cakes rave reviews – just saying. I never had an opportunity to sample her baking but I always had a sampling of her heart in the joy and love radiating from her as she anticipated the occasion.

So I talked about cake today and watched eyes fill with memories and tears and heard again of the Hot Milk Cakes. I also listen for stories and today I heard, “She was very old school and wrote letters and cards for everyone. No one does that these days.”

When it was time to leave I noticed an amazing assortment of beautiful hanging baskets of flowers. In an unusual and gracious gesture, her sons had purchased these for their visitors to take home, to remember.

So, in remembering LaRue, I share my flowers and I write to you.

Peaceful dreams to you this night.

August beauty begins with volunteers!

I am so grateful for the unplanned beauty that springs up in the summer garden.

My carefully chosen petunias from the garden center failed to thrive. But these impatiens have sprung up in their varied shades reminding me of gardens past and pulling color into my days. I’ve learned to look for the little seedlings and move some from harm’s way but most are just where they planted themselves.

My mother grew these in her gardens and I remember how the grandchildren loved the fun of the seed pods. A little push on a ripening one and it would burst open, seeds scattering!

Some years I have planted them in my own garden and while they will seed themselves, I can never resist popping a pod or two. Then I forget them until another summer comes and flowers surprise me with lovely color tucked into places I would not plant.

I love that my life can be like that too. My carefully chosen plans can fail to thrive, but then…the wonderful color and life that can spring up in unexpected places. Sometimes I just need eyes to see the seedlings, patience to see the blooms, and trust in the scattering of seeds.

The lilies of my field

I consider how they grow…”they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Matt. 6:28-29

So true, for such a small investment of my time and effort, they bloom glory. For one day.

I consider that a bloom could be an analogy for each life. In the view of millennia, we each are a bloom to open in magnificent splendor for our day. Be luminous where you are planted; the world needs the color and wonder of you!

Spring Cleaning

Cleaning e-files, I found a devotional piece I wrote several years ago; just on the day I needed it!

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land Song of Solomon 2:12 NKJV

The rising temperatures of spring bring bird song and light, changing the view to fresh green and bright color. Spring is a gift that lightens the spirit, lights the days and stirs us to brighten the world around us.

When I was very young, there was a great flurry of activity each spring. Windows were thrown open, rooms aired and cleaned. Draperies were changed, walls were washed and sometimes freshly painted, carpets were changed out and floors had the wax renewed. Everyone was energized, everything seemed light and fresh. Then finally the freshening of wardrobes with things outgrown discarded.

Housekeeping customs have changed in many ways and I am grateful! But there is still that inner stirring, a nesting instinct, to clean, clean out, throw open the windows and to make things fresh: in home, garden and wardrobe.

But while working on home and garden, I think about the need for an interior cleaning of a different kind. I find some dusty, actually rather grim and dirty attitudes lurking in corners of my soul; petty things that had loomed so large in the shadowy light of winter gloom. Now seen in the light, I find no use for them. It is time to really lighten up, cast off negative attitudes and sing a new song.

And I find myself praying – Lord, shine the light of Your Word into every corner of my soul. Help me to let go of old ideas and weed out grimy thoughts. Please do the necessary repairs on my weariness that I might have freshness. Blow through my attitudes changing and renewing my mind. Let me hear the singing birds and please, clean even my glasses that I might see beauty in the more colorful folks around me. Amen!

Some things don’t change and spring cleaning is still needed in me as well as around me. I’ll be pretty busy this spring!

Time in the park

We went to the park on the river where the sun shone brightly through drifting clouds and birds sang and the wind blew hard and chilly up from the bay through old rushes and new leaves.

He biked and I walked and looked and tried to see, really see. And gnarly tree roots opened a door as I walked in the woods.

As the memory door swung open, first I heard the faint chatter and laughter of children at play in the long ago of my first elementary school. The sound grew louder and then I saw the trees. Part of the school yard was shaded by enormous trees with great gnarled roots worn smooth by the countless leather soled feet of children enjoying the simple challenge of stretching and balancing from one to another of the sturdy tree feet. And I remember the feel of rough bark and slipping and sliding in the trying… and smiling nuns with winged white bonnets turning jump ropes and teaching hop-scotch with worn-out heels begged from the shoe repairman down the street…

This tree has years to grow and I wonder if children will hug it and play among the roots, I hope so. Trees can hold the keys to such satisfying memories.

Refreshments are served!

When your world seems a little tilted, it’s a good time for a walk in the sun and some cold water!