Almost-Fall Words to Share

It's pink diamond hydrangea season on our Kentucky acre. 

Piled in this old silver-plated stand, their rural elegance shines.

TIp: If you cut these after the petals feel papery-dry, 

they'll stay lovely through the fall, until you throw them 

out and deck the halls for Christmas.

And they pair so well with ghostly-white pumpkins. 

Small ball gourds--scrubbed, polished, and ready for purchase. 

This one with the twig wreath opening is a favorite.

Lots of time to ponder while scrubbing gourds ... 

And one of four tiny hooligan pumpkins that the deer missed, grown 

from last year's seeds. 

Who does not enjoy saying hooligan pumpkin?

I'll be repeating that the rest of the day.

This from a person who chooses paint 

colors based on the chip titles ... 

It's why September Fog is on the walls in our guest room. 

Words, my friends, make all the difference. 

All.

Here Comes a Duck

She waddled up our seen-better-days driveway, 

 chatting to herself the way ducks do, and stood in a puddle, commanding our attention.

She got that and much more. 

All summer, we carried around bits of bread and cracker crumbs 

and became her best option for some decent take out.

In exchange, she followed us around the acre like a family dog providing a 

soothing backdrop of duck talk. 

I often wondered exactly what 

she was saying, but never could get close enough to make out 

any real words. It might have been a complaint about the 

 bread quality or the boring variety of crackers, because she 

disappeared after a few visits—on to better menus, I'm sure.

Exactly what your granny used to say, right? 

"Just when you think you know what to expect, 

here comes a duck."

Letter Treasures

I visited with a dear friend recently, chicken soup in hand. 

She had a health crisis behind her, if only a few days behind.

Miraculously—and I don't use the word lightly—her cancer was found at such an early stage 

that radical surgery was enough to take care of the entire problem. 

The cancer's progress wasn't determined until the operation was underway, so my friend 

went into the operating room not knowing what the news would be when she awoke.

In preparation, she organized her desk, stocked her pantry, and ...

... wrote letters.

She penned letters to her children who, though married adults, found themselves at loose ends 

to witness their healthy-as-a-horse mother in a state of emergency. I imagine those missives

 must have been line upon line of fierce mother-love and faith-filled 

confidence in the grownups her babies had become. 

And a letter for her husband—not one telling him what to do if she died, 

never that. Instead, I'm sure it was filled with fond recollections of a youthful romance, 

assurances of lasting love, and reminders of future dreams yet unrealized.

Ever since I read Letters from Dad, the urging to write a yearly letter to each of my own 

family has been ever-present. I even found the (above) retro envelopes for the letters.

Although writing is my work, these messages have stumped me for several 

years now. But my friend's brave actions have inspired me again. 

Do you have a treasured letter from someone important to you? 

I'd love to hear about that.

Much More to Come

I have a jar of paperwhites brewing in my windowsill right now. 

So far, shiny brown bulb paper is their most attractive feature.

But look there -- 

the tiniest green leaf-tongue protrudes from each, a whispered promise of more to come.

Much more to come.

The above is a photo of paperwhites from last year, or maybe the year before that.

The added quote is something I'm trying hard to grasp in 2016.

While I tend to cram my empty places full of other things, 

Jesus gently reminds me that He is the only One who can satisfy. 

And there's much more to come... 

much more.

Swatting the HOWs

 

HOW ... ?

Do ever find yourself bogged down in  the creative journey

by the nagging question of HOW?

Now, just to be clear, I'm not talking about the classic WHY question. 

Forward motion toward a goal shows that you've that 

you've settled the WHY. 

But just when you're really going for it, that's when HOW rears its ugly head.

*

HOW will I find time?

HOW will I convince friends and family? 

HOW will I pay the bills?

HOW will I ever be able to finish?

HOW will I create a following?

HOW will I find a buyer?

I don't know if you've experienced this, but I can tell you from first hand experience - 

the HOWs begin to swarm like wasps, and eventually, they kill the creativity. 

D. E. A. D.

 

This week, my reading in 2 Kings 7 showed me an example of someone else who 

got stuck on how. It didn't work out so well for him. 

Something similar happened to Zechariah in Luke 1.

Consider this advice from D. L. Moody:

"If you would believe, you must crucify the question, 'How?'"

Let's swat away the HOWs, friends, and persevere in the work we are called to do.

SIDE NOTES:

-Further pondering verses here.

-Free copy of D. L. Moody's book, Notes From My Bible, here. 

(see page 58)

-* Photo taken last weekend at a local pumpkin patch. This is a really complimentary portrayal of ironweed,which begins its bloom time right around my birthday and goes to the hardest frost.

-And just for fun, this made me laugh so, so hard...

Enter Listening

We visited an old church in an old town recently. Some helpful soul felt led to instruct the 

congregation in various ways via the magic of the computer printer. 

STACK CHAIRS HERE

KEEP DOOR CLOSED AT ALL TIMES

CHURCH KITCHEN CLOSES AT 8 PM

I think we can all conjure a pretty vivid image of the person who plastered the church 

building with instructional missives held fast by folded masking tape bundles.

But wait - look at this one:

This one caught me by the arm. 

This instruction, LISTEN, rung a bell in my spirit. 

Do you know what I mean when I say that? 

Have you ever had one of those YES! moments? When something someone says, 

or something you read, grabs you by the lapel and gives you a shake? 
And you know, you know for sure, a message has been sent especially for you? 

Or maybe that's just me. 

I don't know about you, friends, but LISTENING is not at the top of my list when 

I enter the church sanctuary. You can be pretty sure that I've made a reasonable effort

that my clothes match. It's a reliable fact that I'll have coffee and a bulletin in hand. 

And you can bet I'm thinking of who might already be waiting for me 

inside, what we'll say, and how we'll laugh.

Yes, it's for sure - I do not enter the sanctuary LISTENING. 

But I think there might be more for all of us than coffee, announcements, 

and churchy chuckles when we come together. There's probably more to be 
heard than our own vain voices, if we just took a moment to enter listening. 

I'm going to make this a priority for the next few Sundays and see what happens.
Whoever printed that page will have one more obedient parishioner than she 
(or he) hoped for. 

Or maybe more than one - would you like to join me? We could Enter Listening in our respective church sanctuaries wherever we attend, all over the globe. 
Who knows what might happen...

What Rhymes With Nine?

It's my forty-ninth birthday today, and

I'm pondering my slogan for the coming year.

You have birthday slogans, right? A new one every year?

A short motto, preferably rhyming, to launch the 

the next year of life. I'm leaving behind last year's:

Life will be great while I'm forty-eight!

A lot of great things rhyme with "nine" ...  and I'm happy 

to take suggestions.

Side Note:

Heavenly Blue morning glory is twining up the greenhouse downspout.

When the early morning sun lights those blooms - OH! 

There's no choice other than an hour or so of pajama photography. 

Falling Leaves

The leaves are falling in a chilly, drizzly rain just outside the window where I sit. 

I always try to be ready for the finally bare trees, but I think I failed this year.

When I make time to stroll golden-carpeted grass, then I'm ready to let the leaves 

fall with no regrets. The maples trees in our front yard and the sweet gum in the back 

are among the last trees in the area to turn, so the show goes on here for a 

little bit longer than expected. 

There might be a few more days to appreciate the fall color after this rain clears away.

My own reflection in a honeysuckle berry.

Side Note - 

I want to leave you with a quote that is just too good to leave unmentioned. If you've been led through valleys of trial or spent any time in a vale of suffering, then these words from ol' Clive may be especially savory to you, as they were to me. 

"Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

C.S. Lewis, the Screwtape Letters

Just Let Mark Say It

" ... in America the ice-storm is an event. 

And it is not an event which one is careless about. 

When it comes, the news flies from room to room in the house, 

there are bangings on the doors, and shoutings, 

'The ice-storm! the ice-storm!' 

and even the laziest sleepers throw off the covers 

and join the rush for the windows.

... usually its enchantments are wrought in the silence and the darkness of night. 

A fine and drizzling rain falls hour after hour 

upon the naked twigs and branches of the trees, 

and as it falls it freezes.

 ...   All along the under side of every branch and twig is a comb of little icicles - the frozen drip. Sometimes these pendants do not quite amount to icicles, but are round beads - frozen tears."

From Mark Twain's   Following the Equator

*****

Click the title for more of Twain's description of a sunlit morning after an ice-storm, 

and find out what building he designated "man's architectural ice-storm". 

These photos are of the morning after our ice storm last night

 --- without the sunlit morning.

Click here to see photos of another ice storm in 2009, 

which included a sunlit morning-after.

Turn on the Spigot

These are sprinkler days. It is HOT and DRY out there, and the gardens are going grey. 

If you know what I mean by gardens going grey, then you might be a (gardening) kindred spirit.

So, I run out to the gardens in my pajama pants, pulling the bottom edges up, trying to keep them out of the dew, looking like a goofily-panted, prissy girl. Which I'm not - prissy, that is. 

Placing the sprinkler is just so important to the whole process! If it's placed all crooked-ish, then you'll just be watering the grass. Which may not be so bad, I guess. 

When it's finally right, then the water can be turned on at the house spigot. 

(What a nice word - spigot. Make sure you say it right: spik-it, just before you spit some toe-back-y. Don't get the juice on yer bed britches!)

Enjoy!  

The garden, or at least a small section, is getting watered, while no one (me) is getting eaten up by mosquitoes! 

(repeat the whole thing every 20 minutes or so, in a new section...)

Thanks, Clive!

We were driving home and listening to the last disc of the the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia - the Last Battle. It's definitely my favorite of the seven stories and just happened to be in the player this afternoon. My Youngest selected the last part of the story to listen to on the drive home. In the story, King Tirian had just fought his last and entered, against his will, the door of the stable, when My Boy reached over to turn it off and say:

"I love, love, love this story! It shows that every single thing in your life all comes down to one decision - everything before and everything after - one decision!"

(me)"Who to serve?"

"YES It's all about that decision. And all of everything is created for Him - all of it!"

(rough description of the conversation, since I was saying to myself, "Remember this, remember this...")

Thank you C. S. Lewis.

I want to give that man a big ol' hug when I get Over There! The impact of his Chronicles on each of my boys is invaluable. I'm not exactly sure how this particular bit of revelation was gleaned from the story by the my Last Son, but I have learned not to question the Holy Spirit when He clearly speaks or moves in the life of one of my men.

I can just stand in fervent gratitude that He is moving in their hearts. It is His work to call them, pursue them and win them. My work is to point the way.

So glad Clive is helping me point!

REMEMBER the Signs!

We've been listening to the Silver Chair by C. S. Lewis (again). In the story, Aslan gives Jill explicit directions to complete a quest, with specific signs which she must commit to memory and repeat during her waking hours. "Remember the Signs!" he commands. Of course, she remembers for a little while, then begins to neglect repeating them, finally declaring, "Bother the signs!" The good guys land in a mess then, and Aslan appears to Jill in a dream to admonish her again, "Remember!" It's a great story that I've posted on before - hope you make time to listen to this wonderful story.

Aslan's storybook urging prompts me to be more devoted to God's Word, knowing the truth: that if I remember and follow His instructions, God's that is, watching always for the signs He's laid out in His Word, then I'll be able to complete The Quest I've been given to accomplish here on Earth. Memorizing scripture has been a big part of my walk in following Christ, leading me to know Him better, but I do have to work and labor at it to accomplish anything at all. And then if I stop reviewing, it all melts away. (This is much worse than it used to be. My forty-year-old mind is a sieve. It's because of teenagers, I think...)

I made these Scripture Clingies to put around the house to help me Remember! as I work through my days. They've been a help to me, as the Silver Chair has reminded me again that I need to work at memorizing His words. I've made a bunch and put them in the Etsy shop - see more photos there if you're interested.

"...The Great Bridge Builder"

This is the most recent audiobook My Youngest and I have finished listening to - the Focus on the Family Radio Theater production can't be beat for this book. (Click here to hear a sample of the first chapter.) The very ending of the story is the best part, listened to not less than six or seven times as we drove to pick up the Big Boys every day from school. I never tire of listening to it, and the words do stick with you. The parallels built into the story by C. S. Lewis are marvelous springboards for discussion - Aslan appearing as the Lamb (John 1:29), cooking a breakfast of fish for friends getting out of a boat (John 21: 9-13), and Aslan's claim to be the Great Bridge Builder (1 Timothy 2:5). Thought you might enjoy reading this last part - I found it here. I've italicized our favorite phrases --- and the last one is the very best reason for introducing your children to Narnia!

At last they were on dry sand, and then on grass - a huge plain of very fine short grass, almost level with the Silver Sea and spreading in every direction without so much as a molehill. And of course, as it always does in a perfectly flat place without trees, it looked as if the sky came down to meet the grass in front of them.

...between them and the foot of the sky there was something so white on the green grass that even with their eagles' eyes they could hardly look at it. They came on and saw that it was a Lamb.

"Come and have breakfast," said the Lamb in its sweet milky voice.

Then they noticed for the first time that there was a fire lit on the grass and fish roasting on it. They sat down and ate the fish, hungry now for the first time for many days. And it was the most delicious food they had ever tasted.

"Please, Lamb," said Lucy, "is this the way to Aslan's country?"

"Not for you," said the Lamb. "For you the door into Aslan's country is from your own world."

"What!" said Edmund. "Is there a way into Aslan's country from our world too?"

"There is a way into my country from all the worlds," said the Lamb; but as he spoke his snowy white flushed into tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane.

"Oh, Aslan," said Lucy. "Will you tell us how to get into your country from our world?"

"I shall be telling you all the time," said Aslan. "But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder.

..."Please, Aslan," said Lucy. "Before we go, will you tell us when we can come back to Narnia again? Please. And oh, do, do, do make it soon."

"Dearest," said Aslan very gently, "you and your brother will never come balk to Narnia."

"Oh, Aslan!!" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.

"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.

"Are are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

"...That Blessed Star"

This year we focused much of our holidays study on A Christmas Carol. At the library, it was a bit of a chore to get a copy of the story in Mr. Dicken's actual 1843 text. It's been retold, interpreted, and translated so many times, and there are so many versions out there! Our wonderful library ladies did their magic, though, and found not one, but TWO copies of the original story, one of them a beautifully illustrated copy.

We found that the 1843 version definitely has its surprises! For example, when the Ghost of Christmas Future takes Scrooge to visit the Crachit's house, Tiny Tim is actually upstairs, having recently passed away. Bob goes and sits by the bedside of his deceased little boy. The original text also has many references to Christ that have been taken out to make the story more comfortable for post-modern readers. Like this one, below...

Just before he leaves through the window, Jacob Marley's ghost mourns to Scrooge:

"Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!"

What a great discussion we had over this quote from ol' Jacob!

the Magi

We're enjoying listening to some Christmas classics on audio as we drive (anddriveanddriveanddrive). The Gift of the Magi, by O. Henry, which we've heard twice so far, has the more difficult vocabulary my 5th grader needs to work on: appertaining thereunto, silent imputation of parsimony, the mendicancy squad, and meretricious ornamentation. Whew!

These two quotes from the story are worth sharing as pondering material, here

in the beginning of December-

(bolding added as my own emphasis)

"When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task."

I think this is a passage mothers can identify with, especially. Really.

But this is my favorite -

"The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi."

I would say that giving gifts in the way Della and Jim did is rarely done these days. How often do we really sacrifice something of our own (sacrifice not meaning debt) to give someone a gift that they've greatly desired? Giving up something personally precious, to bring joy to another?

Something to think about as we check off our Christmas shopping lists.

Della and Jim gave their gifts in the same spirit as that of Christ Jesus as he laid aside His heavenly kingdom to step into our world as a human child. Make a Bible study of it and check these scriptures out I found:

2 Corinthians 8:9, Matthew 20:28, and Philippians 2:6-8

I'll bet more scriptures come to mind as you read these! Add them in the comments section, and I'll be able to check those out, too.

(Come on C-with-an-E, I know you're brimming verses out there in the Midwest!)

To read the story, click here. To listen to it, here.

"That Healthful Shore"

This song, again on my iPod, ministered to me this morning as I was getting ready to go begin a series injections/pills in preparation for my yearly thyroid cancer scan this Friday. During this same week, in '07, '08, and this year too, I am reminded of the fraility of our lives here in this place. As I sit with others in the very small waiting room of University Hospital's Nuclear Medicine Department, sneaking peeks into the faces of the others waiting with me, it is easy to be highly aware that no guarantee is given to us on the length, or even the quality of life while we are still on this side of "Jordan's stormy banks". I do have a guarantee on what I have to look forward to, though, but it's not over here - it's over there. Not because of anything I have done to deserve it (absolutely nothing) but only because of what Jesus did on my behalf!

The photo copy above only has three verses, but in the original writing by Mr. Stennett, there were eight. I like this one, especially this week:

No chilling wind nor poisonous breath

Can reach that healthful shore

Where sickness, sorrow, pain and death

Are felt and feared no more

You can listen to the Jars of Clay version that I've been enjoying, here. Just drag down to the titles section and click the play arrow of "On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand".

For further study of this hymn (or other hymns), along with a nice history of it, go to this blog.