Joyful Shout!!

2011-10-11T14:31:00.000-07:00

Endings are such a good time for reflection. In the midst of a whirlwind week of packing, cleaning, organizing and rearranging the house, getting together with friends whom I won't see again for a while, and finishing up at work, I find myself pondering the things about life that seem to become more obvious in retrospect.

One realization is just how blessed I am to have so many people who love me and whom I love. I HATE saying goodbyes, but sometimes goodbyes cause me to value my loved ones even more than I usually do.

I remember when I realized a couple years ago that loving and hurting go hand in hand; if you love someone, you are signing up to be disappointed and hurt--no matter how much the other person wants to avoid disappointing or hurting you. There just is no way that another human can possibly do the right thing every time, or meet all of your expectations--and ultimately, there are painful goodbyes involved, too. True love always involves sacrifice; to love someone is to commit to give of yourself and to put the other person's interests ahead of your own.

Why is it, then, that giving of oneself seems to result in overflowing richness? Why is it that as I look back at the relationships I've had with people around me, I feel most enriched by the people to whom I gave the most of myself, my time, my prayers and sympathy? You might say that they cost me the most, but now I feel more enriched by them than by those whom I only loved as far as it was easy.

And when I remember the times that I refused to demonstrate love, deciding to spare myself the sacrifice, I remember them as times of poverty--poverty of joy and fulfillment and peace. When I chose to keep for myself, I was impoverished; when I chose to give, I was enriched.

These years could have been a lot easier. But, except for the times when my selfish decisions got in the way, they could not have been more blessed.

Perhaps this is the secret behind Jesus' words, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." (Acts 20:35)

The Results Are In!

2011-09-28T03:31:00.000-07:00

Three years ago, when I moved here to care for my grandparents, I began an experiment. My life up to that point had been unusually comfortable and easy, and I felt that I needed to be stretched and put in a position where I had to depend on God more directly. I wanted to prove to myself that God was enough for all my needs—that I didn’t have to depend on my parents, or the church I’d grown up in, or any of the other supports that I was used to.

I didn’t know what I was getting into. The past three years have been the most difficult—and the most wonderful—of my life. Looking back, I marvel at the goodness and perfect love of God, how He so perfectly balanced struggle and strength, giving me challenges that were just hard enough that I had to reach for Him in desperation, but not so hard that I was crushed beneath them. My heavenly Father custom-built my load, knowing just what I needed to learn and what disciplines I needed to develop—and although it has not been nearly as heavy as that which so many other people carry, it was just heavy enough for me.

As my time here draws to a close, I’ve been thinking about some of the lessons that I’ve learned (or at least begun to learn.)

I’ve gotten a glimpse of just how weak I am, and just how strong God is. I guess I knew this in theory before, but I had never before reached the point of KNOWING that I did not have the strength to do what was required of me.

I’ve found that I’m more impatient and selfish than I ever suspected. And that God is able to give patience and love that I could never manufacture on my own.

I’ve been lonely beyond anything I felt before, and learned that although God usually doesn’t wipe away all the loneliness, He can wipe away the tears. And depths of loneliness can become portals to the sweetest fellowship with Him. He may not give me the one for whom I’m lonely, but He gives me One far better, Himself.

I’ve learned that hope and disappointment come together when applied to any thing or person on earth. How comforting it is to know that hope in God “does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:5)

I’ve begun to learn that “apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5), but that “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)

I’ve learned more about how unlovely I really am, at the core of my being—and I’ve learned a little more about just how much He loves me.

I used to live in dread of facing a “real” trial in my life. But the Lord has so proven Himself to me during these years, that although I know better than ever how unable I am to handle trials, I also know better than before how faithful He is sure to be when hard times come.

And that’s really what my experiment comes down to—it has proven God’s faithfulness and goodness to me. I am stunned by the intricacy of God’s dealings with His own, as He weaves together all that we don’t understand and asks us to trust Him for the results. And yet the simplicity of His care is breathtaking, “I was brought low, and He saved me.” (Psalm 116:6)

I am not the same person that I was three years ago. It’s not that I’ve become any stronger, any better in myself, any wiser in my own reasoning—on the contrary, I’ve learned a lot about how utterly inadequate I am. But I do know my God better, because He has been nursing me along, spirit, soul, and body, with infinite care and love.

Hardship plus random chance, fate, luck, or whatever you want to call it, could never result in the blessings that I’ve experienced. This is the work of the God Who at once keeps all the stars and planets in their place, and gives me about fifteen breaths and seventy heartbeats each minute, who arranges the kingdoms of the world and the minutes of my days. It’s the work of the God Who knows me better than I know myself, and loves me better than anyone else could love me. It’s the work of the God who “did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all; how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32)

The experiment has been a success. God has proven Himself worthy of every fragment of faith that I placed in Him—worthy, indeed, of so very much more faith than I had! I hope that for the rest of my life I will be learning to trust Him more, and will thus see His works more and more clearly. It’s an exciting prospect, because I’m already sure of the answer. It’s underlined in my Bible, Psalm 25:3, “Indeed, none of those who wait for Thee will be ashamed.” I will never have to admit that God failed me, that I drew on one of His promises and the check bounced.

I can’t say it any better than David the king, “Blessed be the Lord, because He has heard the voice of my supplications. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart exults, and with my song I shall thank Him.” (Psalm 28:6,7)

Changes

2011-08-26T14:42:00.000-07:00

You should see my room right now.

The bookshelves are empty except for a few stragglers, the walls are stripped of pictures. My closet has gone from being overstuffed to just comfortably full. My bed (which at the best of times is nomadic in style to make room for bookshelves) has been reduced to a piece of foam on the floor with my sleeping bag.

In the middle of a floor is a pile of boxes whose labels provide interesting reading material. Most of them are liquor boxes, because they are (a) free and (b) strong--and no, I have not been imbibing. Ironically, the slogans on the liquor boxes make more sense to me than the slogan of one computer box, "Inspiring Innovation Persistent Perfection." Apparently computer programmers don't use punctuation. When my mind wanders from my work, I stare blankly at the sentence (if you can call it a sentence) and the words rearrange themselves into rather awkward sequences like "Perspiring Innovation Insistent Perfection." After all, didn't somebody famous say that genius is ninety-nine percent perspiration, and one percent inspiration?

And what, you ask, is the point of this new decorating style? Well, friends, I'm moving. Packing up my bags and heading to the state that eats more ice cream than any other state(good choice, don't you think?)!

All joking aside, I am, in fact moving, sometime in October. Fall seems like the season that most highlights change, and changes are happening here at the farmhouse. The Lord has made it clear, through many different means, that the time has come to transition the care of my grandparents to others, who are fresher for the job and ready to tackle the challenges with new ideas and enthusiasm. I'm so thankful to know that Grammy and Grampy will still be able to live in their home for the time being at least, and to enjoy this beautiful place.

It's very strange to go through daily life and realize how much there is to leave behind. When I first moved from home in Connecticut, I didn't know that I wouldn't be returning. But now, the fragrance of the fields, the beauty of the sunsets, the familiar sights on my commute, the special people I work with at my job and at home, and most especially my grandparents themselves, all become more dear because I know I'll be leaving them soon.

At the same time, I am quivering with excitement about the new opportunities and experiences that are in front of me. I can't wait to live with Dad and Mom again, in their new house, in a town full of people and places I've never encountered! It will be fun to share the lives of my childhood friends who live near my new home, to hold their babies and build forts with their kids. I'm looking forward to a season of rest with time to refocus and see what the Lord has for me next. Maybe I'll even be able to write blog posts regularly again!

There's just no way to describe what the past three years have meant in my life--the lessons and challenges, the frustrations and disappointments and defeats, together with the adventures and joys and personal triumphs. Each blade of grass in these fields where I've walked and talked with God, represents one of His mercies to me. Each of the brilliant stars stands for one of His precious and magnificent promises. I like to think of it that way. Because Maine is full of grass, too. And the same stars that shine here, shine there as well.

Not Forgotten

2011-07-03T05:13:00.000-07:00

The other morning I went into my grandparents’ bedroom and saw something startling. Grampy had scooted down to the bottom of his hospital bed, and had his lower legs up over the footboard, trying to get out of bed (he has side rails on his bed to prevent him from getting up without help, and falling. The sheets were tousled and pulled out of place, a clip on lamp had been knocked down, and everything was disarranged. Trying to keep the scolding tone out of my voice, I asked, “What were you trying to do, Grampy?”

“Oh,” he replied. “I was trying to get up! I figured it was Sunday and time to be getting ready for church, and I guessed you’d forgotten about us.”
I was frustrated—frustrated not so much at my grandfather but at the old age which has left him confused and mostly helpless. It wasn’t Sunday. It wasn’t time to get up. He has not walked without assistance for almost three years. And I had not forgotten him.

I tried to explain, but couldn’t quite hide my annoyance and hurt, “Grampy—“ I began, then stopped myself from continuing, “I couldn’t forget about you any more than a mother could forget about her child!” There’s no point in reminding him of the resemblance. Instead, I tried to remind him gently, that for three years I have not yet forgotten about any of his major needs—his meals, his medicines, his risings, his goings to bed—and that he can trust me to be there to help him when it’s time for him to get up.

And as I spoke, it was as though another Voice was whispering in my ear, “But [Rachel] said, ‘The LORD has forsaken me, And the Lord has forgotten me.’ ‘Can a woman forget her nursing child, And have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.’” (Isaiah 49:14, 15) And He went on to remind me how for the twenty-one years that I have known Him as my Savior, He has not forgotten a single need, but has known and cared about and provided for every detail of my life.

As I helped Grampy move to his wheelchair so that I could fix his sheets, I realized that probably he had been working for a good half hour to get as far as he had, only to end in a futile tangle. All that time he could have been resting in quiet trust that help would come when it was time to get up. The analogy was inescapable, and as I got him settled and went back to my room, I was so humbled as I realized what hurt I must give to the Lord when I doubt His faithful care. Grampy has, after all, some reason to doubt me; now and then I’ve forgotten some detail of his needs. But the Lord has always provided for every need of mine long before I realized it was a need!

So often, when I could be peacefully resting in the knowledge that He will work at the right time, I’m squirming about, trying vainly to figure out how to accomplish what I think needs to happen. Like Grampy trying to find a way around the side rails that are there for his protection, I try to clamber over the limitations that God has put in my life for my safety. And it seems like the Lord must look down at my foolishness and want to say, “My child, don’t you realize that I’ve never forgotten about you yet? The time is not right, and your way is not right, and you aren’t strong enough to manage on your own anyway. Just “wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the Lord.” (Psalm 27:14)

I don’t even have old age for an excuse!

His Face

2011-06-12T14:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Few and Faithful Blog Followers:
It has been so long since I wrote! Not only has it been difficult to find quietness to distill my thoughts into words, but I have somehow felt unable to write about the things that have been touching me most deeply.

I've been thinking so much about my future--decisions that have to be made, opportunities that will be encountered, people I hope to meet (mostly one person :), difficulties that I will face, sorrows that might come. It's easy to get overwhelmed by the "what ifs" and "what abouts" and to let them take the joy and excitement out of the prospect of fifty or so more years of walking with God and discovering His plans for me.

This made me think of something that I wrote several years ago in a journal, when I was meditating on what might be my favorite single verse, Revelation 22:4, "And they shall see His face, and His name shall be on their foreheads."

"There are some whose minds are clouded by despair, plagued by depression--they shall see His face, and their darkness will be light.

"Others weep with wounded hearts, bound by sorrow and suffering--they shall see His face, and their sorrow will be swallowed up by joy.

"Some push through life with arms that feel painfully empty, finding loneliness their constant companion--they shall see His face, and their love-hunger will be filled to overflowing.

"Some bear the burden of misunderstanding, hurt by those they seek to help--they shall see His face, and it won't matter anymore.

"Some empty themselves in sacrificial service, worn out in labors of love--they shall see His face, and it will be worth it all.

"There are some who trust, yet falter, tortured by fears and uncertainty--they shall see His face, and their doubts will be gone.

"And there are some who devote their lives to the good rather than the best things--they shall see His face, and their perspective will be transformed.

I don't know about you, but somehow the trials and tribulations that the next fifty years might hold, don't seem so terrifying in the light of this hope. And all my treasured little plans don't seem quite so important. Because pretty soon Rachel and Jesus Christ the Lord are going to be looking at one another face to Face--and I CAN'T WAIT!! :)

Make us Thy mountaineers--
We would not linger on the lower slope.
Fill us afresh with hope, O God of Hope,
That undefeated we may climb the hill
As seeing Him who is invisible.

Let us die climbing. When this little while
Lies far behind us, and the last defile
Is all alight, and in that light we see
Our Leader and our Lord--what will it be?

~Amy Carmichael

A Visited Earth

2011-03-27T17:46:00.000-07:00

I've gotten out of the habit of taking walks lately, and today I remembered why that was a mistake. Somehow I had thought that looking at a beautiful afternoon through the window, from the comfort of a warm kitchen, would equal putting on coat and boots and hat and mittens and striking out into the muddy fields. It doesn't.

It looked like a pretty ordinary March day from the kitchen, but when I got outdoors, I realized that there is no such thing as an ordinary spring day. When I went out the door, I was thinking of the tragedies that seem to make up so much of life--tragedies of people on the other side of the world, and tragedies of people in my own closest circles. It seemed as though hope was a farce. But as I began my voyage across the soggy field, I was strangely unable to feel oppressed by these thoughts. Despair and springtime just don't go together.

The wind was sharp and cold, but so clean--it left the whole earth feeling scrubbed and fresh. It was good to remember that there is something clean left in the world. The sun was bright and warm and cheery, trying to make up for the chill of winter. It was good to remember that soon the world will be warm again. The ground was slightly muddy and springy beneath my feet where the frost has given way. It was good to remember that frozen things can become soft again. The brown fields are beginning to hint of green--maybe it's just my imagination, but it was a nice reminder that the world will soon be full of color.

And it was sure good to see the birds again. Several different species must be migrating, because they were everywhere! Some marvelously fat robins were parading pompously around on the grass--how do they manage to be so plump and resplendent despite their long journey? And whole flocks of some other kind of bird were perching in the trees or swooping wildly across the fields, chattering busily. Maybe they have reached their destination, and were discussing territorial arrangements. Maybe this is just a rest stop for them and they were planning the next leg of their journey. Or maybe, like me, they were just telling God how grand it is to have a Father like Him!

It made me think of Psalm 65:9-10, "You visit the earth and cause it to overflow; You greatly enrich it; The stream of God is full of water; You prepare their grain, for thus You prepare the earth. You water its furrows abundantly, You settle its ridges, You soften it with showers, You bless its growth."

God is visiting the earth in a special way just now. Don't miss it!

Without A Cause

2011-03-22T13:48:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been hated?

Recently a dementia patient whom I was trying to help to take a shower, fought me away, hitting frantically at me in fear and rage. I don’t blame her. I would do the same if I were in her place, feeling trapped and not understanding why somebody had to invade my privacy. Even though I understood, it hurt a little for my loving care to be misinterpreted and rejected.

That doesn’t come anywhere close to being hated. But it made me think of the words of Jesus, speaking of His countrymen, “‘They hated me without a cause.’” (John 15:25)

Why did they hate Him, anyway? Why do you, or why did you at one time, hate Him? Of course, we say, we never would think of hating Him—that seems like far too strong a word. After all, we admire His teachings—but maybe we’re not willing to trust Him enough to anchor our lives to Him. Call it rejection, then—we admire Him but perhaps we have rejected His offer to save us from our sins. Why would anybody reject Him? Maybe we don’t even consciously reject Him, but just ignore Him. Why?

The Jewish people of Jesus’ day saw His miracles, saw Him heal the blind and bless the poor and raise the dead and have mercy on sinners. He promised them rest and comfort (Matthew 11:28-30), forgiveness of sins (John 3:18), and the opportunity for eternal joy with God (John 3:16).

But still they hated Him, a man who was full of good deeds and gracious words. He had a way of putting a finger on their pride, pointing out that maybe they weren’t quite as good as they wanted their neighbors to think (Matthew 23:27). Would we reject Him for the same reason?

Perhaps they hated Him for suggesting that they couldn’t meet God’s righteous standards by their own efforts. (Matthew 5: 17-28). Does it bother us to hear God’s Word that, “There is none righteous, not even one…there is none who does good.”? (Romans 3: 10, 12). Would we hate Him for that? Would we reject a Jesus who tells us the truth we already know deep within, that we tend to do the selfish, proud, willful thing even though we know better? Does anyone have a good reason to reject Jesus, or could He say of some of us, “they hated Me without a cause?”

But there’s something far more surprising than that mankind would reject the best Man who ever lived. It’s the fact that such a Man would love those who hate Him. That, while He was being tortured on the cross, He would look down at His murderers and pray, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34) There was nothing in them, nor in us, to make us lovely to Someone who knows our every thought and motive. In fact, the apostle Paul pointed out that “while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son.” But He loved them, even while they drove nails into His hands and ground a crown of thorns onto His head. And He loves us, with the kind of love that would die for us, die instead of us, being punished for sins that He didn’t commit.

We hated Him without a cause. He loved us without a cause. Don’t we have good cause to love and trust and obey Him?

Not Even Close, Solomon!

2011-03-19T13:43:00.000-07:00

2 Chronicles 1:15 says that Solomon the king made silver and gold as plentiful in Jerusalem as stones. Pretty impressive. But God blew Solomon's glory out of the water the other night, when He blended a little rain with cold temperatures and we woke the next morning to a world that was so brilliant you could hardly stop squinting!

I went out to take a lot of pictures and when I came home and looked at them, I thought I hadn't gotten any good ones, because the dazzling splendor of the real thing was still upon me. But when I looked at them a week or so later, I realized that I captured maybe 30% of the beauty in digital form. :)

These pictures are kind of dark because I had to adjust the metering a great deal in order to be able to see any detail.

Even the clothesline was covered with beauty. I think there's something profound about that, don't you?

A Covering Love

2011-03-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

Today I cared for a remarkable patient. She was unable to talk to me, but her family told me bits of her story. This patient never throws away curtains, clothing, and other things that have stains or rips or worn spots. Instead, she makes heart shaped patches to cover up the spot. As a result, her home is full of hearts--places where she made a blemish into decoration. The time when Jennie spilled juice on the tablecloth, or that Charlie ripped the curtain, are recorded only by the heart that covers the blemish.

Wouldn't that be a lovely way to live? We can allow frustrating people, personality quirks, faults, and annoyances, to spoil life, and rather than seeking to salvage those tough situations and uncomfortable relationships, toss them into the discard pile. Or, we can turn them into opportunities for love to triumph and to beautify life. Each of those choices is like a heart-shaped patch, reminding us of when love gained the victory, and surrounding us, as the years go by, with fond memories instead of aching regrets.

"Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8, the Bible

To prove I haven't forgotten about my blog... :)

2011-03-01T15:00:00.001-08:00

Hello folks! My apologies that it's been SO long since I posted on this blog (I'm sure you've been waiting with bated breath :). Life has been so busy and so full of lessons that I haven't processed enough to share on a blog, that I haven't been writing or photographing much at all. And I do miss it! So to make up for it, here's a really loooooong post. :( Sorry for being so wordy!
_______________________________________________
I was sitting in the dining hall when one of my instructors came in the door. His eyes scanned the room, deciding where to sit. Then he hung his coat on the back of a chair at my table and went to get food, saying, “I’m think I’m going to sit right here, because you look like you’re enjoying what you’re doing!” Unfortunately, I was doing nothing more inspiring than munching on a delicious, pulled-pork sandwich.

But his statement struck me as unusual—is it unusual for people to look like they enjoy what they’re doing?

This little incident returned to my mind during a long drive to Maine. I had been driving for several hours and was accumulating a pile of used tissues as a result of a drippy cold, and was pondering the deep matters of life. I’m pretty sure I did not look as though I enjoyed what I was doing. However, the beauty of the day began to drown out the misery of a snotty nose, and it dawned on me how much of God’s creation DOES look like it’s enjoying what it is doing. This world has been cursed because of man’s sin, and the Bible describes it as groaning while it waits for the day when “the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” (Romans 8:21). And yet, have you ever noticed how much of joy and exuberance seems to be hard-wired into nature?

Humans seem to be more capable of apathy toward life, than any other part of creation. Have you ever heard a bird sing apathetically? Rather, the notes tumble out like a hearty giggle. Goats jump on and off of rocks just for the sheer fun of it, often adding another lithe twist and kick in mid-air simply because they can. Horses, dogs, and sometimes even cows, can be seen running through the grass, not because they need to, but because, it seems, their overabounding exuberance must come out somehow!

Even the inanimate things are full of vigor, intensity, and joy. God has built it into the bounce of tall grasses beneath the wind, into the tumbling of streams and the roaring of a waterfall, into the waving of tree branches in a gale, and the crash of waves upon rocks. Why else would He make dandelions such a brilliant yellow, and poppies a luscious red, and young ferns a fluorescent green, and mushrooms an audacious orange? Did God really mean for living to be so mundane and humdrum as we seem to consider it?

Of course, we humans encounter a lot of sorrow and difficulty that the animals and trees never face. We are designed so that our natures will not be satisfied apart from meaningful relationships, with other people and especially with God, who made us to know and enjoy Him. But this should mean that rather than being doomed to a doleful existence, we have been given an even greater capacity for delight and joy—for did not Jesus die in order that our relationship with God could be restored through faith in Him? Therefore, those who have trusted Him can enjoy not just life, but eternal life which, as Jesus described it, is “that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” (John 17:3)

Why, then, are we not perpetually exulting along with the rest of God’s creation? Why do the rivers clap their hands and the mountains sing for joy (Psalm 98:8) while we go through life with long faces and consider it childish to clap and sing for sheer happiness? There are many reasons, of course. One is that we are too burdened with cares—although Jesus pointed out the birds and flowers as examples of those who leave their needs in God’s hands and live in rejoicing splendor. (Matthew 6:25-29). Another reason is that unconfessed sin fills us with guilt and therefore, and until those sins are brought to Christ for forgiveness, we don’t have freedom in our souls to rejoice.

But don’t you think that often we simply don’t remember to enjoy life? We focus on the few things that are difficult or annoying, and forget about the hundreds and thousands of things that are truly wonderful. That breath, for instance. Wasn’t it great? You didn’t even notice that you breathed, it was so effortless, so satisfying of your body’s need for oxygen.

Sometimes I find it’s a useful exercise to look at my life the way it seems to other people. Have you ever noticed how other people’s lives look so much more pleasant than your own? And it irks you when they say, “You have such a nice home,” or, “How nice of your inlaws, to babysit the kids,” or “it must be so nice to be able to spend that time with your grandparents!” –and you think, “if only it was all as great as it looks.” Well, isn’t it? Isn’t this house a blessing, even though the kitchen ceiling leaks, and the wood stove is hard to start? Isn’t it wonderful to be with my grandparents, even though I do trip over the walker or find Grammy’s stuffed animals in the middle of my cooking area?

But beyond all the stuff I have and the things I can do, isn’t it just intoxicatingly wonderful to be alive, today, seeing this glorious sunshine, alive to see the beauty of another day, healthy enough to be outdoors and to see what fun the Lord is having making the clouds dance in slow motion. Isn’t it splendid to see the snow driven by the wind, to feel the energy of the wind itself, and the gentler vigor of warm sunshine?

And beyond all that, far, far beyond all that, is the glory of knowing that I’m loved, personally and tenderly, by the God Who created all this beauty. There is the intense freedom of knowing that He has put all my sins out of His memory because of the blood of Jesus Christ. The rest of knowing that all my minutes and days are in His hands, to weave them together into something beautiful and joyous and useful. The anticipation that some day soon I’ll see His face and rejoice in union with Him for all of eternity.

And when you start to think that way, it seems impossible to contain the surging of joy and delight that starts from within. If I could draw it, the colors would have to include the whole rainbow and then some. If I could translate it into music, I would need a rollicking fiddle and a laughing banjo and then a clash of drums and cymbals, Tchaikovsky-style. If you could smell this joy, it would be pungent like citrus and cinnamon, and it would taste like them too, only with a dash of zesty pepper and the tang of mint. And how it would feel? Like standing in the wind on top of a mountain (the best place on earth to be, when you’ve had to work to get there), and like that exhilarating gasp that comes when you jump into a refreshing stream, and like sinking your hands into warm, moist bread dough, and like sprawling on a warm, sandy beach, and like diving into a field of fragrant grass.

Really, people, REALLY? Do we have good reason to go through day after day as though it’s not a miracle that we’re alive at all? To plod along as though life is boring and allow the dandelions and squirrels and—good gracious--even the crickets and frogs, to out-rejoice US? I sometimes want to shake myself and any other people who, when we have so few REAL troubles, live life with a long face and a plodding step. If I were God, I would feel as though I had a whole set of pouting kindergarteners on my hands!! Do you suppose, when He has promised to carry our burdens, that He wants us to carry them anyway and allow them to blind our eyes to the furious joy that He’s painted all across our lives? When He has promised to give us deliverance from our sins, does He want us to hang onto them because we are afraid of losing a little fun? Or, when we have confessed and forsaken those sins, does He think it spiritual for us to continue feeling guilty for them, and thus to miss out on the thrills that He embeds into life for those who trust and obey? Don’t you think that He made sunsets to be noticed and reveled in, that He made roses to be smelled and mountains to be climbed and forests to be explored and bird-songs to be listened to?

Don’t you think God WANTS us to enjoy what we’re doing, right down to eating a pulled-pork sandwich?

Worthy

2010-10-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

This morning I was sound asleep when my alarm went off. What’s more, I was in the midst of a nice dream, and perfectly comfy in my bed. My first sensation was one of revulsion at the rudeness of the alarm, nagging at me that it was time to be up and going to work.

As I stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom, my eye fell on the devotional calendar from yesterday, which was about the value that Judas Iscariot placed on the Lord—in His eyes, Jesus was worth only thirty pieces of silver. The calendar challenged, “What is He worth to you?”

My mind leaped over the usual, obvious answers—the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me, is worthy of all my love, my means, my time, my life. Every Christian knows that, at least theoretically.

Then I thought, “Why, He’s worthy for me to jump uncomplainingly out of bed in the morning!” Duh. He’s also worthy for me to go cheerfully to work, and to carry a smiling face that betrays what a wonderful Savior He is. He’s worthy for me to deny myself a small pleasure for the sake of another person. He’s worthy for me to look dumb by refusing to laugh when other people make dirty jokes. He’s worthy for me to be thankful for the thousands of blessings that flood my life, rather than zooming in on the few annoying things that I have to deal with. He’s worthy for me to do a good and cheerful job cleaning the toilet. He’s worthy for me to wash the dishes. He’s worthy for me to be patient with my hearing impaired grandfather. He’s worthy for me to take good care of the body that He’s lent to me. He’s worthy for me to battle self pity when it comes whispering round. He’s worthy for me to give up my to-do list for the day when interruptions come.

Yes, He’s worthy to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing (Rev. 5:12)! He’s worthy of the Name that is above every name (Phil. 2:9). He’s worthy of the crowns of glory and honor that God the Father has given Him (Heb. 2:9). Isn’t He worthy of the happy devotion of one of His children, in every area of life? And after all, isn’t an alarm clock a great reminder to begin praising the God who has given us the privilege of waking up another morning?

When the Fog Tore

2010-10-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

It was one of the most memorable moments of my summer. One day in June, I stood on top of Mt. Madison in New Hampshire, panting and sweating after three hours of stiff climbing. My friend Andrea and I had started hiking at 5:30, on what looked like a beautiful day in early summer. By the time we reached treeline, cold mist was swirling around us, and the sun was merely a bright spot in the blurry grey world. Now, at last, we were at the top, resting (if that’s the right word to use when you’re fighting to keep your balance and hear one another’s voices in the wind), and enjoying the view of….fog.

Andrea was digging to find something in her pack, and I straightened up to cast another look at where the horizon should have been. Suddenly I let out an exclamation and caught my breath. A slit had appeared in the swirling mist, a tear through the cottony curtain into the blueness beyond. For seconds, I caught a glorious view of mountaintops poking up through clouds, blue sky above them. Then, before I could get Andrea’s attention, it was gone. I shouted something in her ear about how there had been a beautiful view, and she turned to look, but the vista was, once again, only fog. We watched hopefully, eagerly,--and then it happened again, and we both cried out with delight at the beauty and I fumbled for my camera. But no camera could capture that dynamic moment of elation, awe, moving clouds, and clear vision. It tried, and failed.

For the next twelve hours we hiked, hopeful for another rend in the clouds or even a ray of clear sunshine. Once or twice, the veil was pulled away and we could see the panorama of splendor that surrounded us.

The rest of the time, our world was shrunk to a diameter of about a hundred feet, sometimes less, punctuated by hail, rain, and snow. We trudged on from one cairn to cairn, watching for the next one to emerge from the fog ahead. We were never lost—we always knew where we were, where we had come from, and where we were going. We simply couldn’t see any of it.

After that moment of breathtaking sight on top of Mt. Madison, I exclaimed to Andrea, “If that’s all the view we get all day, this hike will have been worth it!” And it was. Because that moment has returned to my mind many times this summer, when all that I could see of the significance of my life seemed no more than swirling mist and dull fog, annoying rain and stinging hail, trudging from one week to the next as I flipped the calendar pages.

2 Corinthians 5:7 took on a new meaning for me, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” The mountains, the valleys, the horizon, the sun, the blue sky, all were absolutely real, even when I couldn’t see them. The trail lay where it always had, the cairns were just as substantial, the map was just as trustworthy—and in this was our salvation. If we had been following our sight, we would have been lost in no time. As far as we could see, the terrain beyond the wall of fog could have been the Sahara Desert, or the Amazon jungle; we could as well have been at the bottom of a ravine as on top of a mountain ridge.

The promises and purposes of God are quite unchanged, whether or not I can see their fulfillment. The righteousness of God is as substantial and changeless as the mountains (Ps. 36:6), and therefore I do not need to fear that when the fog clears, the light of God’s smile will have gone out. His will, revealed day by day, is steadfastly leading me to the goal that only He can see. The panorama view of the purpose of God for the entire universe throughout all of eternity, is glorious and breathtaking, and when, every so often, He gives me a glimpse of my place in that plan, it sustains me for the next long trek through the fog.

Why the fog, then? Maybe it’s because when there’s nothing else to see, my eyes will learn to focus on Him, the Originator of all things beautiful. When there’s no one else to talk to, when the noise of the wind drowns out the clamor of other voices, my soul is drawn to commune with Him. The beauty of the view would be nothing without Him as its Maker, and so He teaches me to enjoy Him first and foremost. Maybe it’s because the fog is as much a part of His beautiful plan as anything else.

Handfuls of Barley

2010-07-23T12:28:00.000-07:00

“Boaz commanded his servants, saying, ‘…you shall purposely pull out for her some grain from the bundles and leave it that she may glean..." (Ruth 2:15-16)

It wasn’t the most efficient way to harvest a field, nor the neatest, nor the most profitable. Yet it was the kindest way. It was the way Boaz chose, when he saw the lonely, hardworking foreign woman bent gleaning in his field.

I wonder what Ruth thought about as she worked? Surely the labor was tedious, and as her back ached and her eyes stung with streams of sweat, she must have thought that her pile of barley was growing very slowly. Then suddenly, among the stubble, not a single stem of barley, nor even two or three, but a whole handful! How gratefully she added it to her collection, and went on with renewed energy. Perhaps, as she continued to find, here and there, these handfuls of barley, she wondered where they came from. Was one of the reapers more careless than the others, too lazy to harvest thoroughly? Then, as she caught up with them, perhaps she saw one of the reapers, and then another, pull from their bursting sheaves a handful of barley and drop it on the ground. And she knew they were doing it for her.

But they would not dare to be kind on their own initiative, for Boaz was no insignificant farmer, and it wouldn’t be good for them to be caught doing a slovenly job. The only answer, then, was that he must be behind this kindness—and indeed she could believe it of him, for he had served her so generously at the noon meal, and provided so thoroughly for her while she worked in his fields. Now she looked for the bunches of barley, and smiled to herself when she gathered them, for they were silent witnesses that he was thinking of her.

I’ve never seen a barley field, but lately I’ve been noticing the handfuls of barley that lie here and there along my path.

The other day at work, I started humming, half unconscious that I was doing it. My patient said, “That’s beautiful. It must be something about Jesus.” I was startled for a moment, and stopped to indentify what I had been humming. It was one of my favorite hymns, the first verse of which runs, “Loved with everlasting love, led by grace that love to know, gracious Spirit from above, Thou has taught me it is so. Oh this full and perfect peace, oh this transport all divine, in a love that cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.”

“Why, yes!” I said. “It is about Jesus! What made you think so?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just knew that it was.”

And I smiled, startled by the suddenness with which this handful of barley had fallen at my feet. Somebody was thinking of me.

Beauty "Wasted"

2010-07-10T19:10:00.000-07:00

I don’t know about you, but I wonder a lot about what the coming years hold for me. My own head is crammed with ideas; I can only imagine what the infinite God has in mind!

Yet I have to say, so far His ideas don’t seem to be quite as exciting as mine have been. A couple years ago, I could have told you several rather thrilling things that I hoped to be doing at age 24, but which in fact don’t resemble my present circumstances at all. It’s been easy to question the perfection of the Lord’s will, especially when it seems like other people my age are living out my dreams.

Yet I’m not complaining—not at all. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You see, the other day I got to thinking about roses. No, not the kind that girls dream about, but rather the pesky multi-floral roses that line our fields on the farm. I was walking through the sweetly-scented evening air, and noticed the graceful sprays of roses that grew on the prickly bushes. Each blossom was so simple and yet so beautiful, and arranged so artistically on the branches, which arced so gracefully in the air.

And I thought, how is it that God puts beauty everywhere, even in the most unappreciated—even unobserved—places? A walk through the woods reveals pockets of ferns, illuminated by gently dappled sunlight. It’s quite possible that I will be the only human ever to observe those ferns before they die in the fall. They’re beautiful when they don’t have to be. Even the grass along the cowpath is stunningly beautiful when you stop to notice. Likewise the wisps of cloud in the sky, made to swirl gracefully for no reason at all but that God is the Maker.

In fact, it is hard to think of a single thing that God has made which is not beautiful in one sense or another. It’s not just that God perfectly designed everything for its intended function. That is true too, but He always blends art with science to make His works beautiful. He can afford to “waste” beauty where humans would consider it unnecessary.

I always want to laugh when I see a cell phone tower disguised as a tree. It’s a perfect illustration of the difference between the creations of God, and the inventions of humans. God builds in starry skies, grassy fields, and towering mountains. Man builds in concrete and rebar. God gives the world voice in bird songs, trickling waters, and the crash of ocean waves. The sounds of mankind are beeping alarms, traffic, and phones ringing. This is not to say that the inventions of humans are bad, nor that we cannot produce things of beauty (although the beauty we produce is strangely like an imitation of God’s handiwork). The point is merely that compared to God, our ideas don’t look so great.

That’s why, when I stop to think about it, I’m okay with letting God design my life. There’s always somebody to whisper that obeying God is a confining thing, ultimately leading to less fun and more work. But when I stop to think about it, that idea is positively ludicrous! He won’t forget to put a healthy dose of beauty and thrill into my life at the right times. In fact, when I stop to notice, my life already contains plenty of interludes of delight and just plain fun.

My observation of the lives of other people confirms the idea that God’s way is always best. When He brings about a marriage, it doesn’t just “work,” but is full of delight and thrill. When He plans out a career, it doesn’t just pay the bills, but contains opportunities that are meaningful for eternity. When He directs a life, it’s never average, but turns out to be more full, more significant, and more satisfying than anything we could have thought up. And He makes even the weeds to bear roses.

Just Wanted to Say...

2010-06-05T18:59:00.000-07:00

...it's a simply splendid evening out there! I went out to bring in some laundry from the clothesline and was arrested by the beauty of the moment. The sky wasn't yet black, but salmon near the horizon, darkening to a deep blue green, and dotted by a few early stars and the diamond glint of a planet. The frogs were piping a rousing song from the pond, and lightening bugs flashed applause. The silhouette of one of the cows stood sharply against the sky on a distant ridge.

And I looked up at the giant bowl of the sky, and thought, "He loves me!" The one Who created such an orchestra of praise, and conducts its music, loves ME! Now that's a nice thought to pillow my head on as I drop off to sleep.

Yet Another Post...

2010-05-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry that my posting is so sporadic--either there are no posts for weeks or three in one day! I haven't gotten to take a whole lot of pictures lately but here are some from the past couple months.

"But if God so arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith?" Matthew 6:30

"Let the field exult, and all that is in it...

...then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy...

...before the Lord, for He is coming; for He is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness, and the peoples in His faithfulness." Psalm 96:12,13

"Bless the Lord, O my soul! O LORD my God, Thou art very great; Thou art clothed with splendor and majesty...He makes the clouds His chariot, He walks upon the wings of the wind." Psalm 104: 1,3

Ordained Days

2010-05-29T17:22:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, a little comment that I read somewhere drew my attention to look at a familiar verse of Scripture a bit differently than I had done before. The verse is Psalm 139:16, “In Thy book they were all written, the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them.”

I had always assumed that this verse meant that God knew the number of days that my life will contain—and of course, this is true. Yet the sense in which I now saw it is that God has ordained each of my days for a specific purpose. God, as a Being Who is infinite in every dimension of His character, knows everything , so He has always known what would happen on each day of my life. Yet it brings an entirely new perspective to realize that He has designed a purpose for each of my days, and the circumstances they contain. Of course, if I choose to disobey His will as revealed in His Word, then I will miss out on some of the benefits that He intended for my days to hold. He hasn’t programmed me to do certain things, such that I have no choice in the matter. But let’s assume that a Christian is walking, to the best of his ability and knowledge, in the path that God wants Him to take.

He has some days that are obviously wonderful days. Perhaps they are days in which he accomplishes some notable victory over sin, or sees God use him in a remarkable way. Perhaps they are simply days in which he came to know and enjoy God better. It’s easy to see how God ordained those days.

Then, there are the bad days. A tragedy happens, or a great disappointment comes; it is a day of pain and sadness. Fortunately the Lord put Romans 8:28,29 in the Bible, so that we know that “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose…to become conformed to the image of His Son.” It is possible to see how the Lord is using a bad day, to help us draw closer to Him and find Him sufficient.

But on the average days, it can be so hard to see God’s purpose. They are days in which we are simply doing what is our duty, going to work or school, trying to do all things to the glory of God and yet not seeing anything remarkable happening. On one such day, I rode the bus home from work, wondering what had been accomplished for God that day. I couldn’t see that I had passed by any great opportunity to serve Him, nor did I see much that I could have done differently so as to allow my day to have more eternal impact. Then verses started coming to mind like James 1:4, “and let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

The Lord speaks so highly in the New Testament of endurance and perseverance, as something to be sought after and cultivated—and yet how are these developed but by time? Most board games have blank spaces as well as those that say, “Congratulations! Take two tokens and move ahead six spaces.” The blank spaces don’t seem to accomplish anything, and yet they do have a purpose. Fine wine and cheeses have to be aged for many days—days in which nothing visible is happening, and yet which are vital to the aging process.

So when I see my days slipping by and think that God should have given me something more significant to do during those days, I’m completely missing the big picture. I may feel like my life is speeding by, like the hourglass is running out, and yet God has plenty of days to spare in which to develop me into the person He wants me to be. After all, He does know the number of days that my life will hold, and it’s just the right number to do the work that needs to be done.
1 Corinthians 6:19,20 reminds Christians, “Do you not know that…you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price…” If my very body is not my own, but belongs to Christ Who bought me with His blood, then my days are also not mine to spend. It is also not my place to judge whether or not God is spending “my” days in the best way possible. My only concern should be that I am walking in His will—and sometimes the only thing I understand about that will is that it is “good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

The other day I was mixing muffins. A most unfulfilling and trivial occupation in the light of eternity. Mix, mix, mix, trying to get the flour evenly blended with the liquids. Whoop-de-do. I could live rather easily without muffins, especially when I have to take the time to make them. But I was making them for my grandparents, and a fresh batch of muffins can be a big event in their monotonous days. So I found myself stopping and committing the muffins to the Lord as a tiny gift of love to Him. The words of Moses the man of God seemed so fitting for that day, and for many “average” days, “Let Thy work appear to Thy servants, and Thy majesty to their children…and do confirm for us the work of our hands; Yes, confirm for us the work of our hands.” (Psalm 90:16,17)

This One's for You, Mom! :)

2010-05-29T17:10:00.000-07:00

Mom says I need to post pictures of the "wiggles and wags" dog. So here they are...he never stays still enough to get good pictures of him wiggling and wagging, so these will have to suffice. :)

Wiggles and Wags

2010-05-26T04:44:00.000-07:00

Here on the farm, we have three dogs. Each of them has a remarkably different personality from the others, and they all have their lovable and not-so-lovable quirks. But between two of these dogs, there is one striking difference.

One dog is the border collie who belongs to the farm; his job is to help herd the cows each day. If you’ve ever met a working border collie, you know that they are usually very intense dogs; they would love to be herding something all day, if possible.

The other dog is my own lovable mutt. He, like his cousin the border collie, likes to be active, but work is not so much on his mind. In fact, he’s not good for a whole lot, when it comes to accomplishing things.

If you were to drive up the hill to our farm, both dogs would probably meet you, both more or less muddy, both excited to see you, both hoping that you might have a cookie for them like the mailman always does. Both of them would be eager to leave some token of their appreciation on your clothes, the border collie in the form of muddy footprints, and the other in the form of doggie breath scented slobber on your face. But after the initial greeting was over (whew! You survived!) the difference between them would be evident. The border collie would disappear for a moment or two, and return with several sticks (he can carry up to four at a time in his mouth). He would deposit them at your feet, where he would stare at them until you, naïve visitor, would bend down and throw them for him to fetch. Thus you would become his life-long stick thrower; any time that you have a couple spare moments, he will go get you a stick to throw for him.

The other dog might have some interest in running after the sticks (especially if he felt like competing with his cousin), but would get completely distracted as soon as you smiled at him or showed signs of petting him. Then, he would be all wiggles and wags, turning his body into a horseshoe shape and going in circles in order to keep passing under your petting hands, and look adoringly into your face at the same time. If he’s really VERY happy to see you (don’t be flattered, he’s really VERY happy to see everybody), he might even pull his lips into a snarling position (it’s just a very toothy smile) and utter a joyous, “woo-oo—OOH!”

When I’m working in the garden, the one dog will be at my heels, jumping at every single clump of weeds that I toss away (they are a poor substitute for sticks, but will do in a pinch). The other will lay down in the grass near where I’m working, or come over every so often to exchange kisses. When I go for a walk, the one dog will range far and wide, chasing sandpipers or playing with his cousin until he gets bored and returns to the farm. MY dog will also go exploring in the grass, or jump into the pond for a swim, but he frequently looks back to see where I am, and if I lay down in the grass to enjoy the beauty of the day, he’ll often come find me and sit down nearby, like a sociable sentinel.

Now as I said, both dogs have their lovable points, and both fill a place in the lives of their respective owners. Of course I am biased toward my dog. Yet I have to ask myself, which dog better represents me, in my relationship to God? When I come to Him, do I always bring a project for Him to work on, a problem for Him to fix, a stick for Him to throw for me? Do I love my God for the things that He gives me, and does my love flag when He withholds some desire? Or do I come to Him full of wiggles and wags, enjoying His gifts, but most of all glad to see His Face, to give Him kisses of love and worship, and to enjoy the stroke of His loving hand?

The answer is revealed when He withholds the thing that I want more dearly, the hope that I cherish above all others. Do I mistrust His love, and take things into my own hands? Or can I face the very real possibility that He does not intend to give me that particular gift after all, and in that knowledge say, “I want You more, Beloved. Nothing You could give me would be worth more than knowledge and enjoyment of You.”

And just like I treasure those doggy breath kisses, God takes delight in even my feeble loving of Him.

Quick Erase

2010-05-11T06:55:00.000-07:00

The other day I walked out from work, relieved to be finished with another twelve-hour shift. It seemed that I could still hear alarms ringing in my head, and the commotion and strain of a busy day seemed to be infused into my tired brain and body. Then, as I emerged from the building, my eyes fell on the flowering trees that grow by the sidewalk. Their delicate beauty was exquisite and lavish. My eyes traveled to the silhouette of the giant evergreen trees on the other side of the parking lots, outlined against a muted evening sky. A gust of wind wafted a sweet smelling kiss to my face, and suddenly, twelve hours of annoying alarms, bad smells, frustrations, perplexities, and trying to keep up with the clock, seemed but a faded memory. The beauty of the evening surrounded me and brought rest to all my senses.

How often this is so! A difficult day is eclipsed by the joy of a couple hours spent with a good friend. Memories of a less than delicious meal swirl down the drain with the dishwater, when we take the first spoonful of dessert. The pain and exhaustion of a day of strenuous labor is transformed into only satisfied weariness by a refreshing shower.

Of course, it works the other way too. There are days that seem perfect until some shock or keen disappointment comes at the end, and the knot in the pit of your stomach tells you that none of the previous pleasures can make up for this pain. The fun of a vacation is ruined by the memory of one heated argument.

The apostle Paul wrote in Romans 8, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us." And again in 2 Corinthians 4:17, "For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory, far beyond all comparison." Or, as the hymn writer said,

"One glimpse of His dear Face,
All sorrows will erase;
So bravely run the race,
'till we see Christ!"

Somehow that perspective makes twelve hours of stress and strain--or even eighty years of life in an imperfect world--seem awfully trivial!

But what of those who choose to reject God's offer of forgiveness through Jesus Christ? What will there be to comfort them throughout an eternity--endless millions of years--of anguish in hell? Only seventy or eighty years during which they got to do their own thing, a little fun mixed with a lot of sorrow--and the knowledge that they could have been enjoying the eternity of delight that God had prepared for them, if only they had taken the gift.

A Varied Palette

2010-04-06T17:16:00.001-07:00

Lately we've had some rather rainy days which, at the last minute, the Lord crowned with a glorious sunset, turning all the mist and clouds into glory.

The day these pictures were taken, it had rained dismally all day. While I was getting supper ready, Grampie mentioned that "the sky's pretty out there." I turned around and gasped at the glory that I had almost missed. Click on the images to get a better view.

2010-04-06T17:16:00.000-07:00

Pruning

2010-03-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

One of the skills that I've begun to learn since I came to the farm, is pruning fruit trees. I know only the most rudimentary principles of pruning, and spend at least as much time being perplexed about what my next cut should be, as I spend in the actual work. Yet already it has become one of my favorite springtime chores.

It's a slow, thoughtful, deliberate job, just right for a day when the sunshine is warm and the breeze gentle. As I work, wielding my clippers and handsaw with a mixture of trepidation and satisfaction, I think what a timeless job it is. My New England predecessors have been doing the same job, with the same tools, for the last century or two. Certainly my grandfather, who planted these trees, has often enjoyed a warm spring day in the same way. They nurtured trees that would outlive them, looking forward to the day when their grandchildren could enjoy the fruit.

And here I am, fingering the rough bark to see which wood is dead, standing back with my head on one side to see if I've missed any tall sucker shoots, and balancing on the top rung of the ladder with the exciting knowledge that I'm specifically disobeying the sticker on the ladder that says "Not a step". But more than that, I'm thinking what a magnificent privilege has been given me to spend a couple hours in something that's so purely delightful.

The air is very still, and that is one of the most beautiful things. I've come to appreciate the silence of nature in a new way. The alarms and clamor that surround me at work are far away now. No voice, however beloved, breaks in upon my resting neurons to cause ripples of thought and perplexity. The only thoughts are those that have been waiting for silence in order to surface, thoughts arising from a full heart and happy mind.

And yet it is not completely silent. For, like my mind with its pleasant thoughts waiting to be enjoyed in silence, nature has a music that is not heard until everything else is still. Here and there birds twitter sociably, and water trickles gently out of the pond. If I listen, I can hear the muffled sounds of my feet on the grass, the neat slicing of my clippers, and even my own quiet breathing.

No one enjoys lying down to rest like the one who has worked hard all day, and can feel each knotted muscle relaxing one by one. In the same way, I enjoy the leisurely, useful hours, feeling each part of my person soak in the beauty of the day. Just as my ears exult in the silence, my eyes drink in the beauty, my nose enjoys the sweet smells, my skin basks in the warmth of the sunshine, and my whole person delights in this moment of utter rest.

In my future, I may live in a war zone, or dwell in a crowded city or village. Something may take away my physical ability to enjoy the view of the world from the top of a ladder. Perhaps I'll live in a desert or a city, alike in their lack of trees and songbirds. Any number of things could happen to prevent me from pruning trees another springtime. And so I take these hours as a gift to enjoy and remember, moments of pure happiness in which I am strengthened and refreshed for the work that awaits me.

Almost Two Months Later....

2010-03-14T15:10:00.000-07:00

Well, once again, many weeks have passed since my last blog post! I'm not sure what happened to the concepts of quiet winter evenings by the woodstove, but they have been rather infrequent around here!

To be honest, though, my busy schedule hasn't been the only reason that I didn't write. There just didn't seem to be much to write about. The view from the kitchen window could be described as variations on the theme of brown, and my schedule, although full, has been the same way. At least, from the kitchen window view.

Yesterday I actually pulled on my boots and went for a walk, to explore that world of brown.

The fields and I have had a new kinship lately. An early thaw melted the snow, leaving hummocks of dead grass, punctuated by muddy patches, ingloriously exposed. When dressed by a scouring wind, and overshadowed by gray skies, the fields provide a perfect environment for musing on all that is wrong with oneself. I've come to appreciate the unadorned humility of the world at this season. Never was it more shabby and miserable. The refreshing thing about humility is that it is nothing but the truth. The exciting thing about humility is that it is all that's required for the growth that a wise God desires to bring about. Never were the fields closer to the explosion of beauty and fruitfulness that we call summer.

As I trudged along the muddy cow paths, marked with tracks that were frozen into the ground last fall, I began looking for any beauty that could be discovered. And I found it! There was beauty in the faithful evergreens, proving that the otherwise bare woods were not dead. There was beauty in the variations of dull green and brown juxtaposed on neighboring slopes. There was a certain beauty in the dark fingers that streaked the ice on the pond, betraying that the sun had begun undoing the lock that concealed the glistening water beneath. In one pond, it had already been victorious, and the open water, roughened by the gusty wind, was chewing at the ragged edges of ice that remained. I wandered toward the sound of a little brook that ran through a drainage pipe into a small area of woods. With a surge of delight, I saw that the water was running free now, leaping joyfully into the pool. The cap of ice that once enclosed it, had fallen away.

The giggling brook, the green that has started creeping into the fields, the melting ice, all betray the great changes that are beginning to come about beneath the drab exterior. The weeks seem to pass in a monotony of half-hearted frosts and dripping rain, mud that freezes at night and ferments during the day, fed by reluctantly eroding snowbanks. Occasionally a violent windstorm provides an exclamation point, tearing down some dead branches and making everything tumultuous. But otherwise, the changes are subtle and hidden. The orientation of the earth's axis to the sun changes a few degrees, the days get a few minutes longer, the ice crystals underground begin to melt.

There isn't much hope or excitement in the kitchen window view. But the rubber boot tour reveals the beginnings of something grand, something so wonderful that it seems completely impossible in such a dingy landscape.

Recently I discovered a verse that whispers of spring coming, of big things beginning to happen while the rain is still dripping and the ice melting. "For from days of old they have not heard or perceived by ear, Nor has the eye seen a God besides You, Who acts in behalf of the one who waits for Him." (Isa 64:4)

The kitchen window view: me, in a constant battle between faith and discontentment, sunshine and rain. Spending my days cooking meals that are eaten in a flash, washing laundry that's dirty again in twelve hours, changing linens and writing down vital signs at work, trying to figure out what to cook, and dealing with the frustrations and difficulties of daily life, thinking that my share of annoyances should provide enough grit to produce several strings of pearls. Noticing how exciting and dramatically useful some people's lives are, and recognizing that there's a whole lot of the old sinful flesh in what other people admiringly call my service. Drip, drop, slip, slop, slush, slosh, brown, browner, brownest. Just like spring!

But then, there's the rubber boot tour: A loving God in heaven, Who knows exactly what each of my days hold. (Psalm 139:1-4) The sunshine of His love at work in my life, beginning to melt the icy spots, and turn hard ground into usable soil (it's in the mud stage right now). The winds of inconvenience and exhaustion, breaking off dead branches and tearing away sodden leaves. The greenness of fellowship with God, beginning to brighten the brown fields.

One day soon, I'll look out the kitchen window and be startled by fields of waving grass, fringed by leafy forests, and bathed in warm sunlight. I'll say, "How did summer get here all of a sudden?" Yet I'll know there was no "all of a sudden" about it, but long, boring weeks of dull, imperceptible change.

And I can't help but think, with a thrill of anticipation, that during these days of waiting and trying to simply be joyously faithful, God is acting on my behalf, just like Isaiah says. Someday, and perhaps it won't be long, He'll let me in on the secret of what work He's preparing me for. He's already told me His over-arching goal, which is for me "to become conformed to the image of His Son." (Romans 8:29) But even His Son had a specific work to do here on earth. At some point "beforehand," God prepared good works for me to do. (Ephesians 2:10) I'll admit I'm getting pretty eager to find out what they are!

The knowledge that summertime is on its way lends beauty and purpose to the rain and even the mud. The knowledge that God is working on my behalf, lends joy to the waiting. I'll keep my rubber boots on for a while yet.

Now THAT'S Ambition

2010-01-22T18:53:00.000-08:00

If you had peeked into the farmhouse kitchen tonight, you would have spotted me sitting with my back to the stove and my Bible in front of me, grinning away with sheer delight. The Lord had just unfolded Philippians 3 to me in a way that I never saw it before--and it made me laugh because of how obvious, and yet how breathtaking, it all was!

Paul begins by exhorting the Christians to delight in the Lord--the surest safeguard against settling for less than God's best. Paul then describes how he put all of his natural assets into the "liabilities" column of his life's account book, because although they might take him far, it would be in the wrong direction, away from his ultimate goal.

Then, he seems to lower his voice as though he's about to share something shocking.

The people who knew him when he was a zealous Pharisee, shook their heads when he abandoned them and their legal religious system. "We had high hopes for that young man," they said. "He could have been the foremost among us--but look at him now! Ready to waste his life hanging around with these nobodies who call themselves Christians! What happened to his ambition?!"

Then the tide begins to rise. Paul is now ready to reveal to the world his ambition. Like waves crashing relentlessly higher and higher up the beach, he lists the the components of his goal

At the very outset he promises that the thing he's aiming for, is so valuable, he is glad to give up absolutely everything that he ever had going for him, and the enjoyment of every human, physical comfort. What for?

"For the sake of Christ...the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord...that I may
know Him, and may be found in Him...having [righteousness] which is through faith in Christ...that I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead...that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus...the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

And as his bold voice rings out, I laugh with glee--laugh at the idea that any earnest follower of Christ could ever be said to lack ambition! Why, Paul has just listed almost ten things, each one of which is unattainable by the human efforts of the best person on earth! No person can be good enough to attain God's righteousness! No one by his own efforts can know God! Certainly no one can provide themselves with resurrection from the dead! And yet each one of these things, and more, is within reach to those who have been redeemed and justified by faith in God!

Christians have for centuries baffled those who strive for wealth, power, influence, and ease. In every age, God has had His faithful ones, who were content to work hard for little money, be overlooked in public affairs, go unrecognized by the crowds, and "waste" their talents and genius, laboring in jungles and deserts, for the sake of Christ Jesus. Yet I think it is safe to say that every child of God who "suffered the loss of all things" for Him, also would join Paul in "counting them but rubbish," in view of the spiritual bounty that God gave them in return.

It makes me wonder--do I have any ambition at all?

Winter Sunset

2010-01-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

I haven't been out to take a whole lot of pictures lately, but the sunset tonight lured me out, despite the frigid temps!

The birdfeeder handle provided a handy frame...

The hayrakes are waiting for summer!

Wish I could have captured the pastel colors more perfectly...

The hens are waiting for summer too!

Stars

2009-12-30T05:18:00.000-08:00

There’s no question about it. Tonight was a night worth braving the wind chill below zero. A brilliant moon hung in the clear sky, and a brisk wind stirred up the powdery snow into fanciful sprays. As I stepped out into the open field, the whole world was reduced to black, white and blue grey. Civilization became nothing but a border to the scene, which seemed to be composed mainly of sky, and the field spread like a white tablecloth beneath.

There is a beauty in winter that is lost in the verdant embellishments of the other three seasons. It is beauty borne of utter simplicity, and invigorated by the austerity of wind and ice and snow and cold. It provides a perfect setting for thinking.

I set out into the field, perfectly alone, except for my shadow, traced sharply against the snow. The snow had been chiseled all day by the wind, cut into scalloped ridges that looked like the frozen ripples of a wave, suspended in the act of flooding onto the beach. In other places, dips in the field had collected the powdered snow like fine sand in the wrinkles of a picnic blanket. Restless wind occasionally picked up some of the snow and tossed it a couple yards away, or shooed it along from its resting place, making it slither across the crust.

I had mourned the fact that there was no one to join me on my walk, to share the beauty and the wonder. Yet as my solitary boots crunched and squeaked in the snow, the night, while leaving me utterly alone, seemed to keep me company. Or perhaps more accurately, when the coming of night had stripped away the usual distractions of daylight, I was more ready to sense the presence of the One Who had created all the beauty before me.

I looked up at the stars, and thought of a scene in one of my favorite books, Carry On, Mr. Bowditch. A girl, recently bereft of her father, was standing on the widow’s walk with Nat, the main character. Together they looked up at the stars, and he said something like, “Somehow, whenever I look at the stars, they make my problems seem smaller.” And he was right. When I look at the stars, they make my conception of God bigger, and suddenly my problems shrink to infinitesimal size.

I found a crusty patch of snow, and lay down, in order to take in the full scene. There they were, the stars, not very plentiful because of the brilliant moon, but bright and clear nonetheless. How long they have been there, and how much has happened beneath their distant gaze. How many men have looked at those same stars, to navigate their way to distant lands. How many minds have wondered at their magnitude and beauty, when they aimed their telescopes into the darkest corners space, and found the stars looking back at them.

How many people have lain on their backs, just as I was doing, and read in the stars the witness that God is present in the loneliest places. The apostle John must have beheld them from his exile on the island Patmos. Perhaps he wondered whether the God who had made those stars had forgotten about him—and then there came a day when he saw “one like a Son of man…in His right hand He held seven stars.” (Rev. 1:16)

They are the stars that lightened the ways of patient shepherds resting on the hills of Galilee, until the glory of the Lord blasted the starlight into obsolescence while angels announced the Savior’s birth. Perhaps those very stars were waypoints along the way of the Lord Jesus, descending to this earth to be the sacrifice for the sins of the creatures He had made.

These are the very stars that shone over a Middle Eastern desert, on the night when God took a man named Abram outside his tent, and made him look up. “And He took him outside and said, "Now look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to count them." And He said to him, "So shall your descendants be." Then he believed in the LORD; and He reckoned it to him as righteousness.” (Gen 15:5-6) And for the next decades, as Abraham travelled through the wilderness, perhaps wondering sometimes whether God had forgotten His promise, he must surely have looked up at these very same stars, and found in their steadfast presence the assurance that God had not changed.

A few short years, and each of these men passed on, yet the stars have remained, silent witnesses to the majesty and faithfulness of God. And tonight I lay in the snow and looked up at those same stars, and thought how each one of them has a name, and is led forth by God through pathless space, with changeless precision. (Is. 40:26) His intellect is so vast that He has perfect knowledge of each of the countless stars—and, indeed, of each snowflake that blew against my face. Then I thought of David, the shepherd boy, looked at these stars and wondered, “What is man, that you take thought of Him?” (Ps. 8:4) He went on to exclaim, “How precious also are Thy thoughts to me, O God, how vast is the sum of them!” (Ps. 139:17,18) Again, in Psalm 40:5, “Many, O Lord my God, are the wonders which You have done, and your thoughts toward us; there is none to compare with You. If I would declare and speak of them, they would be too numerous to count.” Kind of like the stars. And if each star should stand for one thought that God has had toward me--?

Suddenly, the idea that God has forgotten about me, or about a single one of my needs or desires, seemed ludicrous. If He has thoughts to spare to name the stars, surely He knows about any one desire of my heart, though it seems sometimes to occupy my whole little mind.

I got up and continued my walk. Like the old time sailors, I had gotten my bearings again. Not from the stars, but from the God Who moves the stars. And the winter night was no longer lonely.

Winter's Victory

2009-12-12T15:38:00.000-08:00

Well, winter has finally won the argument! Softly, silently, and swiftly, he rearranged the stage, one snowflake at a time. I sat by the window during my lunch break at work, and watched the mesmerizing cascade. Hard to believe that such a tiny, frail thing as a snowflake could help to effect such a dramatic transformation!

Autumn had not quite given up. Upon the downy puffs of snow, he sent his raindrops, cold and crude, to crush the intricately sculpted snowflakes. The world began to look sodden and miserable. But winter had not given up. He retreated to the corner and ever so slyly, and while autumn was gloating over the mischief he had done, winter reached behind his back and turned down the thermostat. By morning, the rain had become only a dazzling glaze of ice upon the snow, radiant and glinting and making it more glorious than ever.

Today I ventured out on my cross-country skis. I had to break the trail, and my muscles and coordination were both out of practice, so that by the time I turned toward home, I was tired, though exhilarated. Home seemed so far away, across the fields.

Then, high, in the sky, I saw them. A great V-formation of Canadian geese, heading due south. My heart was filled with awe as they pressed on, undaunted by the smallness of their wings and the vastness of the distance they had yet to go, not discouraged by the icy ponds and snowy fields below them. As I thought of the journey they had already made, it seemed that surely, even as I watched, one of them would become exhausted or give up, and flutter to the ground. But no, they kept on, their wings beating, beating, beating, beating. They called encouragement to one another and occasionally changed formation for the sake of variety, perhaps, and rest. Now the leader changed direction slightly, and one whole wing of the formation altered their course to stream along behind him. Farther and farther they traveled, into the clear sky, until the undulations of their file looked like light ripples on the surface of water. Then, they were gone, still flying, still heading south. And I looked back at the farmhouse lights twinkling away across the fields and figured I had enough energy to get there, after all.

The evening was very silent after they had gone, as though the last vestige of the autumn had flown away with them, and there was nothing more to say. Winter is here.

Change

2009-12-03T13:15:00.000-08:00

"I'm too old for changes," said Bilbo, the famous hobbit, "especially unpleasant ones."

It's a strange, changing time of year. Autumn is gone; the trees are bare, the grass is yellowing, and the air doesn't have that crisp fall smell. Winter is not yet here; the days grow relatively warm when the sun is out, and there is no snow. It's that awkward in-between time, like the pause between two movements in a piano sonata, at a piano recital. Half the audience is inclined to clap, because they think it is the end of the piece, and the more knowledgeable half of the audience hopes desperately that nobody claps, because they know that the young pianist is only collecting himself to play the next movement.

Or, it is like the time between conference sessions, when the speaker who has just finished is exiting, and talking with the next speaker in the hallway. Nobody is really in charge, and the audience stirs restlessly until, to their relief, somebody gets up to inform them of the plan for the next hour.

It's a time of year when the world outdoors is changing rapidly. The other evening, a winter wind came slamming across the fields, knocking me off balance and moving everything that wasn't fastened down. I shuddered, and thrilled at the same time, because the austere winter is such a splendid time of year. Tonight, the wind blew again, but warm and gusty. The other morning, I saw ice on the pond. Today, mud gurgled around my boots. The other night, there were snowflakes on the laundry I had hung out. Today, I didn't hang any laundry out, because of splattering rain. Autumn and winter are having it out with each other just beyond our hearing. And until winter takes charge, we have no choice but to accept the changing moods of the weather.

I was thinking about change today. I thought of the childhood friends from whom I never intended to separate--but somehow, they slipped out of my life, or I out of theirs, until we rediscovered each other on Facebook several weeks ago. I think of the people who are in my life now, the everyday people, who give me their smiles and hugs and greetings. It's hard to believe that someday they, too, might drift out of my life--not because of any kind of clashes, but simply through the changing circumstances of life. Their influence on me, and the love they gave me, will always remain, but my relationship with them may change. And I'll admit I kind of want to agree with Bilbo.

And yet, change comes. And it's a good thing, after all. Burdens become lighter when there is promise of change eventually. Relationships with people, and opportunities to enjoy them, become more precious when you know they'll be gone one day. Earthly things--"stuff"--becomes less important because time and change, if not death, will soon snatch it away from us.

So change comes. And just like the passing seasons, each new change brings its own challenges-- and its own delights. And our chiefest delight is the One Who never changes--the One Who created the magic of changing skies, and changing sunsets, and changing seasons.

No photoshop effects, I promise. :) Aren't God's colors amazing?!

"For I am the LORD, I change not." Malachi 3:6

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." Hebrews 13:8

A Few Pictures

2009-10-11T14:19:00.001-07:00

Sorry I haven't been posting on here much lately! The other day I finally managed to get out for a walk and capture a few images of our glorious autumn season!

Now THAT'S orange!

I looked in a puddle...and saw a cloud! Must be analogy there...

Maybe this is stretching it a bit, but I thought it looked as though the light from the setting sun had started the cattails burning...

It was so utterly peaceful beside the pond..the water still, the air quiet, the sun setting silently...

The King's Highway (from Pilgrim's Progress)

More beauty in a mud puddle

A Dusty People

2009-09-17T07:51:00.000-07:00

"By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and by the breath of His mouth all their host." (Psalm 33:6)

"Then the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being."(Genesis 2:7)

The sun and moon and stars, the galaxies, nebulae, black holes and star clusters, all came into existence by a word from God. The fish and bacteria and animals and birds and insects came about by the breath of His mouth.

But then, God wanted to make mankind. It was in His mind to create a being in His own image, who could fellowship with Him and talk with Him and love Him and know Him. This was the creature who was to rule the earth and all the living creatures on it. He was to explore the vastness of the universe and marvel at the God who created it.

More than that, a Lamb had been slain before the foundation of the world. He was not slain for the birds or the fish or the dinosaurs or mammals, nor for the planets and stars. He, the centerpiece of all God's love and delight, had been slain for one creature only, the one which God had not yet made. How would God create this being, who was to possess unimaginable privileges and unmatched capacities among the created things?

Would there be a blinding flash of light which, fading away, would reveal the creature? Would He wave His hand in the thin air, and bring it forth with a great blast of trumpets? Would it emerge from a torrent of mighty water? No, instead He put His finger, figuratively speaking, into a patch of dry ground, wrested some of it from the wind that was even at that moment carrying it away, and formed that bit of dust into the being called Man.

That perspective lends a little more force to Paul's caution in Romans 12:3, "I say to every man among you, not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think." Psalm 103:14 reminds us, "Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame, He is mindful that we are but dust." Perhaps it would be good for us to remember what the Lord never forgets--we have the distinction of being the only creature in the universe made of...dust.

For our physical bodies, the verdict is, "You are dust, and to dust you shall return." (Genesis 3:19). But in the spiritual realm, we read about things like going "from strength to strength" (Psalm 84:7), and being changed "from glory to glory." (2 Corinthians 3:18) It's pretty amazing what God has done with dust. It's even more mind-boggling to think about what He's done and is doing FOR the creatures who are made out of dust. But I wonder if the most incredible thing of all, is what God still plans to do with those bodies of dust, for people who are believers in Christ:

"...So also is the resurrection of the dead.
It is sown a perishable body, it is raised an imperishable body;
it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;
it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power;
it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body....

...For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality."
(1Co 15:42-53)

I'm awfully glad that God remembers I'm only made out of dust, and somehow there is compassion (literally, "feeling-with") in the heart of the Maker of the Universe, for a creature made out of dust. But I'm not going to be dust forever; there's a grand exchange coming!

Pictures

2009-09-17T07:45:00.000-07:00

What a Portion!

2009-08-25T03:31:00.001-07:00

"God now brings thee to His dwelling,
Spreads for thee His feast divine,
Bids thee welcome, ever telling
What a portion there is thine."
~J. Denham Smith

I suppose all of us find ourselves, at times, being discontented with our lot in life. No matter how blessed we are, we can always point to something that we don't have, which others are enjoying. Lately I've been thinking about David's words in Psalm 16:5,6.

"The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; Thou dost support my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me."

Joshua was told by God, "Every place on which the sole of your foot treads, I have given it to you, just as I spoke to Moses. From the wilderness and this Lebanon, even as far as the great River, the Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites, and as far as the Great Sea toward the setting of the sun will be your territory." (Joshua 1:3,4) And, having the outer boundaries of their possession thus delineated, the Israelites started walking.

Perhaps David had been gazing at some of the nice things on the other side of the fence--and then realized that it was time for him to start walking, to find out exactly what was within his portion. The first question, of course, was where the outer bounds of his possession lay. And as he thought about it, he realized that he had been given an inheritance beyond the land allotted to his family in Israel. He remembered a day when he had been hiding for his life in a cave, with no plot of land to call his own safe haven. It was the day when he acknowledged a great discovery, "You are... my portion in the land of the living." (Ps. 142:5)

The Lord as his portion! If Israel, with its millions of people, never succeeded in occupying all the land that God allotted to them, how could David--how could we--ever map out the borderlines of our portion, God Himself?

What exactly lies within the boundaries of our portion? David shares some of his discoveries in Psalm 36. He tells us a little about the terrain. There are mountains, lofty and solid and magnificent,--the very righteousness of God. There are great deeps too, the unsearchable judgments of God, under which our sins have been buried by the work of Jesus Christ. All those billows of judgment rolled over Him, and our sins can never be recovered from that great deep to be laid to our charge.

There's a river too, refreshing and sweet, called "the river of Thy delights". When God is our portion, He bids us to drink of that river--to take great gulps, as though trying to drink the river dry. It's root is at "the fountain of life." The early explorers of America died in their search for the fountain of youth, but the Christian has already found God's fountain, eternal life in knowing Him. (John 17:3) The air within that portion is sweet with God's faithfulness and lovingkindness, which extends all the way to the heavens--and how far is that? I'm not too technical; to me, the heavens are what I can see when I crane my head back as far as possible, and look up. At night, our view extends far into the blackness of space, unimpeded by an atmosphere illuminated by sunshine. When everything is darkest, we see the farthest into the depths of His lovingkindness and faithfulness.

The soil of that great portion, flanking the mountains of righteousness and the deeps of judgments, is love. It is in God's love that we as Christians are rooted and grounded. Moreover, the love of Christ extends past the limits of our discovery, in every direction. (Ephesians 3:17-19)

David acknowledged that there were some things that might be outside of his portion. He saw other men, "whose portion is in this life, and whose belly Thou dost fill with treasure; they are satisfied with children..." But as he began to explore all that had been given him for an inheritance, he came to a great conclusion: "The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me." The border lines were laid in just the right places. They weren't traced according to cities and landmarks, like the inheritances of the twelve tribes of Israel. Instead, the map of his portion, and of ours too, consists of a giant perimeter--or is there even a perimeter?-- and inside that vast territory, the word, "God".

We'd better start walking!

Borrowed Words

2009-08-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

I found this excerpt in C.H. Spurgeon's Morning and Evening the other night, and thought it was worth sharing. Especially because I like having such good company in prescribing a walk as a balm for all woes. :)

"Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide." (Genesis 24:63)

...When Jesus is the theme, meditation is sweet indeed. Isaac found Rebekah while engaged in private thoughts. Very admirable was the choice of place. In the field we have innumerable texts for thought. From the cedar to the hyssop, from the soaring eagle to the chirping grasshopper, from the blue expanse of heaven to a drop of dew, all things are full of teaching. When the eye is divinely opened, that teaching flashes on the mind far more vividly than from written books. Our little rooms are neither so healthy, so suggestive, so agreeable, nor so inspiring as the fields. Let us count nothing common or unclean but feel that all created things point to their Maker, and the field will at once be hallowed. The glory of the setting sun excites our wonder, and the solemnity of approaching night awakens our awe. If the business of the day will permit it, it will be well, dear reader, if you can spare an hour to walk in the field in the evening. But if not, the Lord is in the town, too, and will meet with you in your room or in the crowded street. Let your heart go forth to meet Him.

Just Another Walk

2009-08-05T18:28:00.001-07:00

Most people wouldn't consider me very sentimental. I don't mind if my birthday is forgotten, and I'm not one to keep lots of mementos from childhood. But I am sentimental about some things, especially about places that have been meaningful to me.

There were six things left on my to-do list tonight, but I decided that none of them was important enough to keep me indoors on a beautiful evening. So I went for a walk. As I meandered around the farm, I began thinking about the year that I've lived here, and the memories that saturate those fields. Most of the fields have one of my thinking spots, places that I've gone to meditate or pray. And almost every field has been a battleground where some particular victory was won. Many of them are associated in my mind with some verse of Scripture that the Lord sent to me in a time of need.

The first place to which my feet turned was the Psalm 25:12 field, where last summer I spent many evenings praying about the decision whether or not to move up here. So often the Lord drew near to me there, and thrilled my heart with His love and care for me.

From there, I crossed a couple hill pastures, and turned to follow the dusty road out to the orchard. I went by the place where I watched the sun rise one wintry morning, and learned a great lesson about hope, as the sun burst in warm glory upon a frigid landscape.

The orchard was one place where I had cried out, "Why, God!?" about a friend's difficult circumstances--and He answered something along the lines of John 13:7, "What I do you do not realize now, but you will understand hereafter."

A little further on, and I came to the field where I had once lain in the grass and admired the blue sky above, and realized just a bit more, how much I am loved and cared for by my heavenly Father.

I lingered a while in the last field, my steps slowing down as I crossed windrows of hay. I paused and lifted a bunch of hay, damp with dew, but light and soft, to my nose. The dusky, sweet smell that I love so much, filled my nostrils. It was not hard at all to relive a day last summer, when the Lord proved Himself to me in that field, and I gained a new perspective on James 5:17. The grass had lain there in just the same manner on that day, when a friend and I stopped in the midst of morning milking to ask the Lord for a dry day so that we could get the hay in. The God of the universe, the One Who controls the rise and fall of nations, and the movement of the galaxies, had bent down to hear the plea of two young people in manure-spattered clothes, and heard their prayer over the clicking milkers and swishing tails and buzzing flies. He made sure that the downpours went around that field, just close enough for us to see it raining a mile or two away, and we got all the hay in.

As I walked through that field tonight, it really hit me. The Lord Jesus became a curse for me, let His blood stream forth for my sins. Over and over God has proven His love and care for me, even in these very fields--and here I've been so worried that He will overlook some of the needs I think that I have. I've been listening to recordings of Isaiah and Ezekiel lately, and one of the biggest things that struck me is that God CARES intensely about His people, and about their relationship with Him. He eagerly desires that they should know Him, that they should recognize that He alone is God, that they should walk in company with Him. What an amazing thought, that One so high, should care about those who are so insignificant. I could care less what an ant thinks about me. But somehow God is not content until His people recognize Him for Who He is, and rest in trust upon Him. The pleading of His heart toward Israel, as recorded by the prophets, now seemed, in a way to be directed to me. As though God were saying, "Don't you SEE! I'll take care of you! You truly shall not want. I shall freely give you, with Christ, all things! You don't have to worry at all, my child."

Now that place has become my Romans 8:32 field.

It was getting pretty dark as I headed home, crossing through the 1 Corinthians 13 field, where I had meditated on that passage while raking hay, and realized in a new way the pain and joy of loving like the Lord Jesus. I didn't have time to visit the Matthew 11:30 field, or to stop by one of my many favorite haunts, where the hemlock trees shoot so far upward, taking my thoughts toward heaven with them. I did slow down to admire the moon, which was in the process of lifting a gauzy veil of cloud away from it's face. It lay like a radiant opal, set in a mother-of-pearl sky, where it's yellow glow picked up hints of pink and green and blue. The delicate tops of a couple of evergreen trees provided a perfect frame around the whole scene, and I could not help but admire the God Who had given me that special glimpse of beauty.

Last of all, I crossed the field where the Lord had given me definite peace about moving up here. I can't help but be glad for that leading. So many lessons there have been, so many challenges and victories, so many tears and so many smiles. So many memories that will live on long after the farm is gone. It was in that field that the Lord also gave me John 21:16, which paraphrased sounded to me like, "Rachel, do you love Me more than these? More than these fields, more than the thousand things that you love about this place, more than the people who have made it home to you, more than the friends you have made here?"

The answer is yes. But I'm awfully thankful for those things too.

Hiking

2009-07-27T04:21:00.001-07:00

I love the mountains. The mere sight of them on the horizon, their heads swathed in gauzy turbans of cloud, their bases lost in the valleys, makes me excited. I love looking at them, I love photographing them, but most of all, I love hiking in them.

Last week I got to go for a wonderful hike with my uncle and cousins. We started climbing early in the morning. Sometimes, early mornings are restless times. Gusts of wind chase the mist back and forth, as though the mountain is tossing its bedclothes around, trying to block out the sunlight which insists on disturbing its slumber. One is never quite sure whether the sun or clouds will be victorious. Finally, the conflict is over, and the mountain emerges, sunny and fresh, as though now that it's finally out of bed, it is glad to be awake.

On this particular morning, the mountain had already made up its mind to wear a smile, and the morning was serene and beautiful. In fact, the whole day was bright and warm, a perfect day for hiking. I always love hiking. But this time, I enjoyed it more than usual. It wasn't only because of the great weather, or the fun companionship, or the thrilling route that we chose. Really, it was because of a change in philosophy.

I decided that this time, rather than focusing on going as far or as fast as possible, I would just enjoy each part of our traverse. Rather than pushing to stay in the front of the line, I varied my position, sometimes bringing up the rear, at other times hiking in the middle, sometimes walking alone, sometimes in company of the others. Each variation was enjoyable, and above all, I was free to delight as fully as possible in the gorgeous weather, the strenuous trail, and the pleasant companionship.

While my body concentrated on pushing forward, my mind mused upon life, and how similar it is to hiking. The secret to the Christian life, it seems, lies in the step-by-step living of daily life. We know that we will reach our destination, because the blood of Jesus has assured that. And so, we are free to concentrate on making the most of each day, enjoying all the blessings that come our way. Some parts of the trail are smooth and level, and how we enjoy those parts! In other places, each step is a challenge, but it's also progress, and although we sometimes quail at the steep places ahead, we can look at the mountains that we've already crossed, and know that the next mountain will be overcome in due time, just by putting one foot in front of the other by the strength that God provides.

It's impossible to describe the exhilaration that one experiences when hiking above treeline. The peaks look velvety from a distance, with juniper climbing partway up the ravines, and blending into gray rocks that cover the tops of the mountains. But when you get close to them they are only masses of boulders piled together, formidable and unforgiving. Your lungs and legs cry out in weariness as you approach the next ascent, but little by little, one step at a time, the heights are gained--and when you look behind you, you're startled by the downward sweep of the bony ridge that you've traversed.

Just like my hiking companions and I encouraged and helped one another over the hard places, we get to strengthen our fellow believers. If five hikers reached the end of their trail, but one fell behind and was lost, the whole hike would be a failure. God assures that each of His children will reach the end of their trail with Him in heaven, but some of us get pretty badly bruised along the way and need the support of others in order to finish the journey well. And certainly each of us needs a helping hand or encouraging word at some point along the way.That hike gave me new understanding of 1 Thessalonians 5:14, "We urge you brethren...encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with all men." I sure am glad for those who apply that verse to me!

Interestingly, after I relinquished my hunger for miles, and decided to simply enjoy the trip regardless of distance, that hike ended up being the longest I've done. We crossed nine out of the ten peaks in that range...and yes, I do want to go back and try for all ten. But whether we accomplish it or not, I think I've learned my lesson: the journey is a whole lot more than simply a route to a destination!

The Going-Home Look

2009-07-25T05:25:00.000-07:00

My shift was finally over. The double doors of the intensive care unit shut with a click behind me, cutting off the noise of people talking, machines beeping, and monitors alarming. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed jubilantly for the door. A friendly housekeeping employee called goodnight.

"You have the look like you're going home," he said. It was true. My steps were bouncy, my head up, a smile threatening to float to the surface of my face. I laughed and called goodnight back to him.

The main plaza of the hospital was mostly deserted, and so I dared to vent my feelings by whistling the famous melody of Dvorak's New World Symphony, popularly called, "Going Home." What did I care about steps that I had to climb, or about grumpy people in my way, or about raindrops between the hospital and my car? I was going home--and everyone could tell!

Yes, going home. There are few greater privileges than having a wonderful home to which one can't wait to return. But this will only bve my home for a few more years. I'm on my way to my real Home, the one in glory with my Savior. What a home that will be--I can hardly wait!!

And I ask myself, would someone say of my daily life, "You have the look like you're going home"?

Why This Waste?

2009-07-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

Recently I read the story in Mark 14, of the woman who anointed Jesus with costly perfume. Although it was worth about ten months' wages, she kept none of it back. Breaking the alabaster vial, that not a drop would be retained, it was poured in an instant upon the Lord's head.

One can imagine the gasps from the other disciples. "Why has this perfume been wasted?!" they exclaimed jealously. "Think how many poor people could have benefited from the price of its sale--and here it is, wasted on one man!"

But how pointedly the Savior rebukes them. "Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me." And he tells them that not only will this woman's act of worship be remembered for all eternity, but that wherever the gospel is preached, throughout all the ages of time, it will be remembered. I wonder how they felt when they realized that their foolish valuation of her worship, would be recorded right next to the story of her devotion.

They called it waste. Why wasn't the value of the perfume transposed into good deeds? Jesus said, in effect, "She HAS done a good deed--to Me."

I wonder how often we make such errors. Five missionaries are killed for the sake of Christ in Ecuador--and we hear, "What a waste!" Borden of Yale, one-time millionaire, dies at age 25 in Egypt, where he was studying Arabic in order to preach the gospel to Muslims in China. What a waste! A young, intelligent man refuses a job that would offer him good money and prestige, because it would require too much of his time, time that could be spent in worshipful service to the Lord. Why this waste?! A woman gives up her budding career in order to make a happy home and raise children for the Lord. Why this waste?! Yes, there is much waste among Christians, from the human perspective. Waste of time, waste of life, waste of opportunities for self-advancement, waste of money. But there is another, more subtle, kind of deception into which I find myself falling sometimes.

"Why this waste?" whispers the evil one, when I resolve to take time out from a busy day to worship the Lord and study His Word. "You could be doing some kind of service, you know." "Why this waste?" he says again, when we give up precious day off to remember the Lord weekly. "You know how much you need to be able to sleep in....it would help prepare you to serve the Lord better, of course." "Why this waste?" when believers gather to pray. "Think how much you could get done for the Lord in that time!"

And yet the distinction that the Lord pointed out to the disciples is so clear. It is the "good deed to Me," that is most precious to Him. Worship seems to work itself out in service, but all service is not automatically worship. And it is worship, and enjoyment of our relationship with the Lord, that He most desires.

A Lesson Learned

2009-07-11T18:38:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I've fallen out of the habit of taking my walks in the fields with the Lord. Weeks of rainy weather might be partly to blame, but it has also seemed as though I just didn't have the time.

Well, last night I had things to work over in my head that sent me up to the high pasture, one of my favorite meditating spots. After spending a while there, I began wandering through the fields, and realized how much I missed it. There is an absolute peace about meadows at dusk, with all the bugs and birds providing background music, and a cool breeze toying with the grass blades. Somehow, the rest, the utter absence of hurry, the quiet calm, seeps into my heated mind, and reminds me that God is not flustered--and why should I be?

This morning when I pulled back my window shade, I saw glorious yellow light spilling across the world, and decided that, long to-do list or not, I was going for a walk. It was such a wonderful way to begin the day! Luscious banks of green, dewy grass rose on either side of the dirt path. Birds sang joyously, and the whole world seemed glad to see the sun.

I headed back out in the late afternoon for a longer walk. The sun was hidden behind sullen clouds, and a restless breeze was gusting. A storm was coming, for sure! I ran this time, right into the wind. Somehow when the wind is at your back, it is more of a nuisance than anything, and the shadow of your own body seems to steal the refreshing coolness from the air you breathe. But when the wind is in your face, whipping every strand of hair back, blowing into your mouth and nose, it is so thoroughly exhilarating! Wind coursed along the long grass, sending it into a marvellous rippling motion that can hardly be described. The blades of grass ran with the wind as far as they could, then bounced up to catch the next gust. Trees tossed fitfully, and transposed the wind into an exciting rushing noise.

It is a good thing when troubles can be blown out of one's heart, by a walk at twilight, or by a run in a windy field. Not because they are small troubles, but because it's impossible to be swallowed up in God's majestic creation without being reminded of His greatness and His nearness. How blessed we are to be able to see Him in the everyday beauty around us.

I'll be taking more walks soon. :)

Pictures!

2009-07-02T14:24:00.000-07:00

Sorry that the blog has been rather lacking in the picture department...the rainy weather and a busy schedule haven't been too helpful to my photography efforts. :)

I love the fields...but the woods are pretty too. :) This was taken by the sidewalk at work where I take my lunchtime walks.

Multi-floral rose...it looks nice, it smells nice, but it AIN'T nice, when it's growing in your field! Right, Uncle John?

A "Pastural" Scene

The clouds ARE good for something....

Cows grazing at sunset. This picture is hard to see unless you click on it to see the full version...

Spacious Skies

Good Things

2009-07-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

Somebody was whispering…and I was listening.

“Poor thing,” the voice said. “You don’t have things easy. Of course life isn’t hard for you compared to some people, but still…you could have a lot more enjoyment in life if you weren’t so self-sacrificing.”

“Hey, look at that girl,” it said a little later. “What a happy life she has, so many people around to love her and admire her.”

“Dreaming isn’t wrong,” said a voice by my pillow. “Especially when the life you dream about is so good and upright and beautiful. It’s strange that the Lord hasn’t given it to you.”

A strange thing started to happen. As I listened to the voice, and pictured the happy life that I could lead “if only,” I didn’t become happier. Quite the opposite. The greener that the grass looked on the other side of the fence, the yellower it appeared on my side.

That’s when I started meditating on the “good thing” verses. I have found four of them so far.

James 1:17—“Every good thing bestowed…is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.”
Psalm 16:2—“I said to the Lord, ‘Thou art my Lord; I have no good besides Thee.’”
Psalm 84:11b---“No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”
Psalm 34:10b—“They who seek the Lord shall not be in want of any good thing.”

It’s fascinating how they fall into two pairs. When paraphrased, they read:

Every good thing is from God.

No good thing is apart from God.
AND
God withholds no good thing from those who walk uprightly.

Those who seek Him get every good thing.

The first two are unconditional; they are about who God is, regardless of our behavior. They seem to depict God as Sovereign, providing good things to all the people in His dominion. Every good thing in this world is from God, no matter who enjoys it. There’s nothing good apart from Him. Those phrases are two different ways of expressing the same simple concept, and yet how often I mistrust that truth! Really, Lord? You mean I’ll never find anything that is genuinely good, apart from You?

The second two verses are conditional. They deal, not with Who God is, but with how He acts. They depict God as Father, blessing individually those who became His children by receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior (John 1:12). A good father desires to bless his children to the full extent of his ability. If it were up to him, he would give them a new gift every day when he came home from work. And yet, sometimes he is hindered, not because he is unable to bless them, but because his children are acting in such a way as to prevent him from blessing.

Perhaps it is because they are being disobedient, and if he gave them a gift in their disobedience, he would be reinforcing their bad behavior, which would ultimately lead them away from him and the love that he wants to give them. Sometimes he cannot bless them because they are ungrateful for the love he’s already shown them, and to give them a gift would only spoil them and lead them to feel perpetually discontented. Sometimes he can’t bless them because they never stop long enough to take the blessing, but tear past his outstretched hand, bent on their own mission. Sometimes, he must withhold a blessing for a time, simply because the child isn’t ready for it. They have more to learn, or they need to grow, before they could properly enjoy it. Nobody would think it a good idea to give a brand new car to a child of six.

Aren’t these all reasons that our God might have to withhold good things from us? And yet, these verses emphasize God’s eagerness to shower upon us every blessing that He possesses. His purpose for eternity is that “in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” Don’t you think He longs to do that now?

It’s almost as though God has His hand in His pocket, ready to pull out a gift to give His child, and He’s leaning down, watching until the very first moment when His child is ready to get the gift. The instant comes, and, without a second’s delay, the gift is theirs.

Each of the “good thing” verses, is an absolute statement, “Every good thing,” “No good thing,” “Any good thing,” “No good besides Thee.” God gives a “satisfaction guarantee.” Nothing but our own sin and obstinacy, can hinder us, as God’s children, from getting the full dose of His blessing. Sometimes we think that we must plead with God for His blessings. I wonder sometimes if He feels like pleading with us to step into the place where He can give us the blessings that He must otherwise hold back for our own good.

The next time the voice shows up, I’ll have some good ammunition. The motto of the local hardware store is, “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.” When I’m walking in obedience to the Lord, and that little voice points out to me something "good-looking" that somebody else is enjoying, I can remember the “good things” verses, and hear the Lord saying to me, “If you don’t have it, you wouldn’t want it—it’s not a good thing for you right now, daughter.”

What is Thy Beloved?

2009-07-01T02:22:00.001-07:00

The other night my friend and I were chatting over Skype. If any eavesdropper in cyberspace was listening to our conversation, I wonder what he thought when one of us asked the question, “What is it that you love about God?” We soon came to the conclusion that it was impossible to sum up what it is that we love about our God—how can the infinite God be confined to words on paper?

I continued to think about the question as I got ready for bed. It reminded me of another question, asked so long ago, “What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women?” (Song of Solomon 5:9) In answer, she tried to describe his person, in language that was figurative of his character. I can think of no better way to describe my God.

What do I love about God? I love His eyes, how they are like a flame of fire1[1], yet wept with the sorrows of men.[2] I love to know that His eyes are upon the righteous[3], and that He sees my every action[4] and yet that He still loves me.

I love how His ears are open to my cry[5], to the faintest sob, the boldest praise, to my very voice, not just to what I say.[6]

I love how my life, when I live in obedience, is a fragrance of Christ to His nostrils.[7] My prayer can be as incense before Him.[8]

I love how His mouth is full of gracious words,[9] and yet how He speaks with authority.[10] How a word from His mouth created the universe[11], and it was His breath that gave life to man[12]. I love how He has the tongue of disciples, knowing how to sustain the weary one with a word.[13] He holds all things together by the word of His power.[14]

I love how the face of the Lord Jesus was set like flint to go to Jerusalem to bear my sin.[15] How He did not hide his face from the spittle of his enemies.[16] And it’s the same face which is like the sun shining in its strength.[17]

I love His shoulders, which bore the cross for me.[18] One day, they shall bear the key of the house of David.[19] And yet, as a shepherd He bears His lambs on His shoulders.[20]

I love His arms. They are strong arms.[21] They are everlasting arms, beneath us in whatever circumstances we are.[22] They are the arms which carry the weakest of His own.[23] They are the arms that embraced the little children.[24]

His fingers wrought the heavens.[25] His hands were pierced with nails for me.[26]
He is beyond the comprehension of the most brilliant mind. And yet God is love, a concept understood by the youngest child. He seems to us a paradox, and yet no aspect of His character is compromised.

Everything about my God is wonderful. Or, as the bride of long ago answered, when she had described her beloved from head to toe, “He is altogether lovely!”

[1] Revelation 1:14
[2] John 11:35
[3] Psalm 34:15
[4] Psalm 139:3
[5] Psalm 34:15
[6] Psalm 116:1
[7] 2 Corinthians 2:15
[8] Psalm 141:2
[9] Luke 4:22
[10] Mark 1:22
[11] Psalm 33:6
[12] Genesis 2:7
[13] Isaiah 50:4
[14] Hebrews 1:3
[15] Isaiah 50:7
[16] Isaiah 50:6
[17] Revelation 1:16
[18] John 19:17
[19] Isaiah 22:22
[20] Luke 15:5
[21] Psalm 89:13
[22] Deuteronomy 33:27
[23] Isaiah 40:11
[24] Mark 9:36
[25] Psalm 8:3
[26] Psalm 22:16

My First Video Attempt

2009-06-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

Well, I haven't tried this video posting thing yet, so here goes!

This is a video taken last year, when I was raking hay...I've talked a bit about haying on the blog here so I thought maybe you'd like more of an idea of what it's like...though the pictures sure don't do it justice. :) They can't capture the satisfaction of organizing a whole field into neat rows, the unique sound of swishing hay as it whirls around under the rake, the wonderful scents coaxed by the hot sun into the warm breeze, the pure satisfaction of being part of a team to get the hay in before sunset.

Wordless Beauty

2009-06-13T18:19:00.000-07:00

This is Grammy. She has dementia. Little by little, her brain is betraying her, forgetting how to live life. Words are becoming a mystery, tasks which she used to do so efficiently and easily are now frustrating puzzles.

But there are some things, the meaning of which she remembers. A hug, a kiss, a smile, a mug of hot cocoa, all are things that touch her emotions and make her happy. And beauty. She has a remarkable eye for beauty. Not just the beauty that most of us see, in well-kept gardens and hot-house flowers. No, she sees beauty in grasses, and dandelions, and pieces of foliage, and brings them indoors for us to enjoy by the kitchen window. Below are pictures of some of her bouquets.

In a Hurry

2009-06-09T05:25:00.000-07:00

The last several days I’ve been privileged to be part of a large gospel effort, focusing largely on door-to-door visiting. The responses have been varied, as usual. Most are polite, many seem disinterested, others are rude, and some are friendly and glad to see us.

“In a hurry,” one man told me when I asked if I could show him a verse from the Bible. He wasn’t the only one; it was a response we had heard several times. It made me think of the hymn,

“Sunk in ruin, sin, and misery,
Bound by Satan’s captive chain,
Guided by his artful treachery,
Hurrying on to endless pain;
My Redeemer, my Redeemer,
Plucked me as a brand from hell.”

Yes, hurrying on, hurtling toward an infinity of suffering and regret, with no time for eternity. The lost are indeed in a hurry.

Is God in a hurry? “The Lord is not slow about His promise…but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish, but for all to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9) God is in no hurry to bring judgment upon sinners. Rather, we read, “Thou art a God ready to pardon.” (Neh. 9:17). It has been said that the only time that the Bible depicts God the Father as being in a hurry, is when the father of the prodigal son ran to meet his repentant boy. So yes, God is eager—perhaps we may even say reverently that He is in a hurry—to forgive.

The lost are hurrying to a Christless eternity of agony. God is hurrying to intercept them with His forgiveness. Have we who call ourselves Christians got any urgency at all about their souls?

At long last!

2009-05-24T18:27:00.000-07:00

Well, I feel like it's been a long time since my last post...hopefully a bunch of pictures at once will make up for it. :)

The Bean Teepee (which is a word I never learned to spell)

Queen of the mountain!

As Seen Through the Iris

"Come Lord Jesus"

The color only God could invent...

Pruning

2009-05-18T17:39:00.000-07:00

This spring my uncle gave me my first lesson in pruning fruit trees. While I am nowhere close to proficient, the experience gave me a new understanding of Christ’s words, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser…every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.” (John 15:1,2)

The first lesson I learned is that the one pruning is a visionary; he does not see the twigs that are there, but the branches that they will become. Based on that, he decides what growth to leave, and what to prune out. When the Lord looks at the various parts of our life and our character, He sees how they will develop down the road.

On an apple tree, the desirable boughs are those which grow out horizontally, within easy reach for picking the fruit and into a space where they will receive enough sunlight. The goal of pruning is to maximize the amount of nourishment and sunlight that these branches will receive.

The easiest part of pruning is removing the dead branches; it is very clear that they need to be gone in order to avoid shading the living branches. It is easy to understand why the Lord prunes out certain parts of our lives which He shows us to be sinful, dead works.

But once the dead branches are removed, it becomes a lot harder for me to know what to prune. There are some healthy, vibrant boughs that need to be taken out, because they grow straight up, where their fruit will be out of reach and of no use to anyone. They will only shade the lower branches. Therefore, they are pruned out, though it might seem like a shame. There are things in our lives that might not be bad, just useless, and they take energy that could be put into more profitable things. When our desire is to bear fruit for the Lord, He loves us too well to let us be comfortably distracted into wasting our lives.

It’s even harder to understand why some branches must be removed that grow in the right direction, and seem full of promise for good fruit. But they need to be pruned out because they will crowd out the other fruitful boughs. Our lives can only support a finite number of occupations, even useful ones. Our Husbandman sometimes has to help us focus on the good works that He has given us to do (Eph. 2:10), not all the good things that need to be done.

Yet just as there is a limit to how many fruitful branches a tree can sustain, there is a limit to how many of the undesirable branches can be removed at one time. How wise the Father is, knowing just how much to prune us at a given time. I’m so glad that He is the one who holds the clippers, and that I can trust His all-wise, all-loving hand to make my life more fruitful.

Daybreak

2009-05-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

The other night when I was working, I took my break around 4:30 in the morning. As I sat down in my in my usual spot, I looked out the window and was startled to see the horizon brightening. It was that unique blue-green color that is so hard to describe, still very pale and bordered by clouds, but it was bright enough to outline the silhouettes of some giant pine tree tops.

Suddenly there came to my mind the words of H. Suso's beautiful poem, a poem that expresses the way I want to feel about my Savior.

The Night Watch

Oh when shall the fair day break, and the hour of gladness come,

When I to my heart's Beloved, to Thee, O my Lord, go home?

O Lord, the ages are long, and weary my heart for Thee,

For Thee, O my one Beloved, whose Voice shall call for me.

I would see Thee face to face, Thou Light of my weary eyes,

I wait and I watch till morning shall open the gate of the skies;

The morn when I rise aloft, to my one, my only bliss,

To know the smile of Thy welcome, the mystery of Thy kiss.

For here hath my foot no rest, and mine eye sees all things fair

As a dream of a land enchanted, for my heart's love is not there;

And amidst the thronging of men I am lonelier than alone,

For my eye seeketh One I find not, my heart craveth only One.

I lay down for a rest, and when I woke up, the day had come. Just like that morning will come one day. And I won't sleep through it's arrival!

Just 'cause

2009-05-09T16:56:00.000-07:00

A couple more pictures that I liked...

Home Sweet Home :)

Morning

2009-05-08T06:17:00.000-07:00

Well, my plans to sleep in this morning didn't work out, but it was such a glorious morning that I couldn't be too disappointed. :) Here are a few random pictures from this morning.

Eye spy....

This isn't a great picture artistically, but I love this calf's "Peek-a-boo!" expression as it looked over the back of another calf.

If You Only Knew

2009-05-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

I wrote this piece in 2005, about a paramedic I knew. In a sense, though, he represents the man or woman that each Christian knows, the one whom the devil would have us believe will never be saved. I still pray for his soul. Thank God, this medic's final call hasn't come yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I see you sitting across the room, sprawled over a battered chair, your boots up on a small table. You are the picture of self-satisfaction, an imposing hulk of resting strength. There is nothing of weakness in your strapping form, in your square jaw, or snapping eyes. What would you say if I told you what I am thinking, that before me is a man bound helpless in the entanglements of sin, and lost in black darkness. Could you believe that my heart is filled with pity for you, that I cry out for your soul to the One Who alone can break your bonds? You would only laugh to hear such things—it would only be a big joke. Will the day ever come when you feel your need, when you are silenced by the realization of your lostness?

I have seen your dark eyes smolder sullenly and dance with teasing—will they ever burn with repentant tears? Will they ever shine forth the light of Christ’s transforming life?

Your hands, so large and yet so dexterous—they have often striven to save the lives of others; will they ever be clasped in prayer at the feet of Him Who is life? Will they ever turn the pages of a Bible with reverence?

You are laughing now—a hearty, ringing laugh that fills the room—and yet I know that yours is a mouth full of cursing and bitterness. Shall the day ever come when from those lips flow words of grace, bearing testimony to the love of Christ? Shall your voice ever utter words of humble thanks to Him Who died for you? I think I would cry to hear it, but they would be tears of joy such as I have never yet known.

Your pulsing, vibrant life has often come in contact with cold death—you know better than anyone else how frail this life is. You have witnessed man at his worst, at his weakest, at his most degraded, and you have a tough shell after all these years. I don’t blame you. But how I pray that beneath your cool, glinting bravado there lurks sometimes a doubt, a fear, a concern, albeit fleeting. A realization that the day is relentlessly approaching when your ruddy countenance will be set like a pale mask, when your darting eyes will be fixed in a terrible, empty stare, and you will be dead. Just dead.

You take a drink of your coffee, lean back to call out something to a friend passing in the hall, then your boots hit the floor with a bang and you stride out. Your shoulders fill the doorway, and you are gone.

Yes, hope quails within me. But why? There is One Who broke the power of death itself, and crushed the dominion of the Prince of Evil under His pierced foot. He who can plant a tiny seed in a cleft of rock, and cause it to grow into a great tree, rending even the ledge that binds it, can, with a word, shatter your defenses. He came into the world to save sinners—can He not save you? Will His blood, which cleansed Saul the Pharisee, the thief on the cross, and my own poor soul, fail to wash away your encrusted sin? May it never be!

“For the Son of Man has come, to seek and to save that which was lost.” Even so, may He come to you, and when you bow before His loving Lordship, you, even you, will no longer be lost.

And it seems that the angels of Heaven will scarce rejoice more than I.

"The Winter is Past"

2009-05-06T17:44:00.000-07:00

"For behold, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land." (Song of Solomon 2:11,12)

No wonder that Solomon found his joy echoed in every shade of springtime! What an exhilarating time of year! The winter is finally gone for good, and the rain clouds, at least for this afternoon, slipped away after having freshly washed the face of the earth. It was a glorious afternoon, and I trotted around outside from bush to flower to tree, trying to capture some of the beautiful blossoms. As usual, the pictures can't quite capture the beauty, especially because they can't capture that wonderful turtledove song, which echoed above me in the trees. And there's positively no way to capture the fragrances that emanated from each flower that I stopped to sniff. Such wonderful scents as I could never think up myself; in fact, I could hardly believe my nose!

Mmm...blueberries on the way...taste those blueberry pancakes!

And we'll have applesauce to put on our blueberry pancakes!

I hope to post some more photos soon; there were many more flowers that I didn't get good pictures of; I'll have to try again another day.

Big Dreams, and Higher Thoughts

2009-05-04T18:19:00.000-07:00

The last night that I was working, I took my break around 3:00 AM. My feet and my eyes were heavy with weariness, and my heart was heavy with other things. Desperate for help from the Lord, and blinking back the tears, I went to my favorite break spot, pulled a bench over to the window, propped my sock feet up on the heater, and sat looking into the darkness and crying out to the Lord. I was not only tired, but resentful, thinking my yoke very hard and rebelling against the means that the Lord was using to answer one of my prayers.

And, as He always does in His grace, the Lord began reminding me of Himself. Reassuring me of His love, reminding me of His faithfulness, reinforcing His presence with me. The verse came to mind, “"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," declares the LORD. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

It was as though the Lord began saying, “My thoughts and plans for you are so much bigger than yours. You can hardly grasp the beginning of what I want to do with your life. Rachel, I am working to glorify Myself in your life! Think of it! To bring glory to the eternal God, the creator of the universe, by means of your humdrum, puny life!

“You wish your life was different—how do you want it to be? You want to bid goodbye to loneliness, to have the people you enjoy always with you. That is a big want. But I want something bigger for you; I want you to enjoy the only Friend that actually can be with you in every moment. You want to enjoy the love of family and friends. Rachel, I am offering you the love of God! I will not have you settle for less than the boundless, incomprehensible love of Christ!

“What is that? You wish your life was easier? That you were more free to do the things that are important to you? If you could only realize the privilege that it is to be doing the things that are important to Me! There is a reason you are here right now, Rachel. A reason you are living where you are, doing the daily chores that you are, bearing the responsibilities that you are. There is a reason you are working at this hospital, working this night shift. That reason is nothing less than My will—the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. I know your dreams don’t involve these things. But My will does.

“You have two big dreams. To be a wife and mom, and, if that doesn’t work out, to be a flight nurse. My will may encompass those things for you, but it goes far, far beyond. My will for you began before the foundations of the world, and it extends into eternity, long after this world has passed away. You are to do a work even nobler than that of a helpmeet, more magnificent and important than saving lives in a helicopter thousands of feet above the ground. That work is to accomplish my will. To follow in the steps of My Son, Who said, ‘I glorified You on the earth, having accomplished the work which You have given me to do.’ (John 17:4) And right now accomplishing My will means doing dishes and washing laundry and trying to figure out what to cook and working night shifts. It’s big stuff, Rachel. It’s the work which I have given you to do.”

I sat there in the quiet hospital and felt humbled and awed. Humbled because of my petty unbelief and self-will. Awed to know that my sitting alone on a bench in the night, was, to the God of heaven, a distinct event in eternity, a moment for Him to reveal Himself, even if only to one heart. And to daily life I now carry the thought, “The object of my life is not to carry a yoke that I love, but to love the yoke I carry, because the Lover of my soul has laid it on me.” How glad I am that the yoke was not removed while I moaned about it, because now I have the chance to learn to sing beneath it, and to gladden the heart of God by my song.

Spring Report

2009-04-28T17:43:00.001-07:00

Well, it feels good to be writing a blog post again! A lot has changed in the scenery around here since I last wrote; spring has fully sprung and we've had a few days that felt an awful lot like summer! Over the last couple days, it seems like every time I look out the window, things are a little more green and luscious.

No more do I have to look for a hint of green in the fields; now I have to look for any colors BESIDES green! And the grass doesn't look like a buzz cut anymore, but is getting shaggy and thick...ready for a haircut in a few weeks! Today when I went for my walk I was thrilled to see the blue sheen of the grass, rippling in the wind.

Birds abound in every tree and bush, their bright songs competing with the mellower woodwind tones of the frogs. Speaking of the frogs, they have developed their voices, and now have enough breath for long, droning notes, the perfect accompaniment for a summer night. I saw some of them today when I walked by the pond. Only usually I didn't see them until I heard a "plop!" and saw their hind legs pushing them into the murky depths. Dozens of "plop" sounds preceded my footsteps, and the noises became silent in that area, but the relatives on the other side of the pond kept up the tune bravely.

The trees are beginning to bud, and not being afflicted with pollen allergies, I am enjoying the dusky greenish yellow tint that is sweeping across the forest. Daffodils wave cheerily in the sunshine (I hope to get a picture of them soon), and add their fragrance to the air, which already smells gloriously like summer. It's really pretty impossible to describe what summer smells like, only that you know it when you smell it.

Even the cows know summer is on it's way! Tonight they were let out onto the grass for an hour or so, and one escape artist found a way into the open field of waving green grass. In no time all sixty cows were following her, and they charged into the grass, kicking up their heels and plowing into the tufts of growing hay. Full of high spirits, they refused to be herded sedately like usual, but darted from one side to another, getting just out of reach but no closer to the barn. Ominous clouds, shattered by golden sunlight, began to slowly drop great drops of rain as we worked to get them in. Only the cowdog, charging onto the field like he knew he was a hero, was finally able to get their attention. We couldn't blame them. It's awfully hard to wait for summer!

Forsaken but not Forgotten

2009-04-25T02:48:00.000-07:00

Hello dear blog readers! Just a note to say that I haven't forgotten about the blog, and I really do want to write a new post, just haven't had the time lately....but NEXT week I very much hope to! :) Thanks for checking in! Also, a friend pointed out that I should add a "Followers" section, so I did. :) Enjoy the hot summer weather this weekend!

Frog Songs

2009-04-11T17:35:00.001-07:00

WARNING: This blog post doesn’t even pretend to be profound. It’s just pure enjoyment of God’s creativity!

This evening I walked out to one of the ponds, and was amazed to hear how vigorously the frogs
were singing! I managed to sneak right up to the edge of the water without disturbing them, and realized that the racket of frog sounds is actually made up of several distinct voices.
I don’t know much about frogs at all, but I think I’ve heard that the reason they chirp is to attract a mate. I found myself grinning as I pictured the gentlemen (or maybe they’re females, I’m not sure) who were producing the different sounds.

Away to my right, there was a rather debonair frog whose song sounded almost exactly like, “Pretty birdy!”, repeated over and over in a see-saw voice. Ostensibly this was a mistranslation, and he was actually saying, “pretty froggy, pretty froggy.” One must hope that this admiration was directed toward the lady of his choice, and not a desperate attempt to gain the attention of any females in the vicinity. At any rate, he did have a fine voice.

From the rushes to my left came a unique call that can only be described as a combination of a creaking noise and a rippling scale. It seemed probable to me that the individual producing the sound was as enigmatic as his song. Doubtless he sang of a life of adventure and thrill, though without being very particular about the details.

Directly at my feet was the Scientific Suitor. All I heard from him was a series of beeps, emitted mostly at regular intervals, with an occasional pause. Quite possibly it was a form of sonar, and he had to stop every so often to listen for an echo. Clearly he did not pretend to be romantic like his one neighbor, or imaginative like the other; his policy was to present himself in a predictable manner which would most efficiently attract a lady of sense. Hopefully the said lady had better eyesight than I, for although I was quickly able to localize the origin of his voice, I could not by peering into the weeds, discover him.

And so, they flattered and trilled and beeped away, each at the top of his lungs, and it was really quite impossible to predict which would be the most successful with regard to the females, who no doubt were tittering and giggling along the sidelines. Personally, I thought that the combination of the three songs was the most enchanting.

Soaring

2009-04-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

If someone were to ask you, “What picture from nature best describes or depicts the Christian life?” what would you think of?

After the other evening, I know what I would answer. I had stepped outdoors into an evening that sang of spring. Peepers and other frogs trilled away in the pond, birds called goodnight to one another joyously, and the wind sweeping through the pine branches was warm and refreshing. The evening felt clear, but there were dark clouds in the western sky, between which the sun was playing hopscotch.

Then I saw two great birds soaring low over the hills. Their great wings were spread out, and they were catching the wind, leaping on top of the invisible columns of rising air, swooping with the ever changing currents, and looking overall like they were having a splendid time. I thought how wonderful it would be to be one of them.

But then, I looked toward where the sun was setting. A gigantic column of cloud, dark and majestic, rose towering into the air, breaking the sun’s rays into scores of lighted columns, which reached all the way to the ground. It was hard to believe that the cloud was just a collection of water droplets; it all seemed so surreal, like the pictures of nebulae in space. It seemed like the closest thing possible to a representation of God, in all His glory and majesty. The picture hardly begins to capture it.

I gazed in awe—and then I saw something more beautiful still. One of those birds was up there, right by that cloud, right by the golden rim where the sunlight burned a white hole in my vision. No longer did it seem like a great bird able to harness the power of the wind. It was only an insignificant speck, utterly incomparable with the power that surrounded it, but fearless and free.

Doesn’t that picture one aspect of the life that God wants us Christians to have in Him? No power in ourselves, no match for the winds of life, no comparison to God Himself, and yet living a life of victory, freedom, and perfect security. The winds were so much stronger than that bird, and yet it had no reason to fear them because God has given it wings, and in fact the wind only serves to lift the bird to greater heights.

Life on this earth is hard; the days often hold monotony, sorrow, disappointment, and frustration for us. Often we don’t feel like a soaring bird, but more like a Canada goose, beating its wings endlessly, day after day, heading for a goal that seems so far away. Like the geese, we work together, one breaking wind for another until he wearies and they trade places. Life is a lot of hard work. God allows that. But He also calls us to mount up spiritually on wings like an eagle, facing the hard things in life but not wearying because He has given us wings to ride the wind. It’s the rest of being so weak that we have to rely utterly on Him. Of realizing that apart from Him we can do nothing, and trusting Him to do everything. It’s the joy of the bird who ceases to beat its wings, only spreads them out and, resting on the wind, soars up to meet the sunset.

Springtime Scenery

2009-04-06T08:34:00.000-07:00

A few more miscellaneous pictures that I've taken lately. Yesterday the clouds were moving quickly, creating interesting lighting and shadows.

Robbie the cow dog was in the right place at the right time. :)

Isn't the background interesting in this picture? It's the reflection of the clouds and sky in the rippling pond.

The two things that mar the reflection in a pond are debris and waves...an interesting analogy for us who are believers in the Lord Jesus, seeking to reflect the beauty of Christ in our lives. Reminds me of a verse from one of my favorite poems:

"Be all at rest, my soul, O blessed secret,
Of the true life that glorifies thy Lord;
Not always doth the busiest soul best serve Him,
But he that resteth on His faithful Word.
Be all at rest, let not your heart be rippled,
For tiny wavelets mar the image fair,
Which the still pool reflects of heaven's glory--
And thus the image He would have thee bear."

~Freda Hanbury Allen

I took this the other morning; it's a sign of spring when only the highest places are frosty!

Miscellaneous Pictures

2009-03-29T17:26:00.000-07:00

Just a few shots from around the farm lately....

Look at the blue of that water! Pristine farm pond for you. (haha) :)

Kinda neat...

Here come the cows, strong and brave! :) (you have to watch Milo and Otis to get it)

Carlos the Bull. Aw, ain't he cute (through a telphoto lens)?

Now I wouldn't be caught snoozing in public like THAT, Cardinal!

The result of trying to get too close to photograph ducks on the pond...

Reflections

2009-03-25T17:59:00.001-07:00

Two days ago, I was suspicious. Today I’m positive. The fields are beginning to turn green! Of course, there’s been a very slight green tinge ever since the snow surrendered. But now, they’re really becoming green! They sound like fields too, when you walk. No more is there the crunch of snow, or the spongy sound of mud, but the whisper of old grass beneath your feet.

Rivers ran through the low places a week ago. After a few days, they subsided into streams, where sunlight winked lazily off the trickling water, like the slowly blinking lights of traffic, when you look down from a high hotel room. Now, only beds of silt remain, sculpted into long curving lines, and dotted by well-washed pebbles.

The pond, so recently glazed by old, rotting ice, is now a glossy, liquid pool. I spent a long time there this evening, trying to capture the magic of reflection with my camera.

I remember how, when I was little, I’d look at the reflection of the yard in the bathroom mirror, and think how exciting the world would be if it actually was in the reverse layout that I saw there. It was the same yard, but somehow it seemed like if only the woods were on the right side instead of the left, that area would be far more exciting to explore. Well, tonight I found myself noticing the reflection of the hills, garnished by setting sunlight, in the pond and thinking, “How beautiful!” Then I lifted my eyes from the glassy surface, and realize that the landscape WAS beautiful, with a beauty I hadn’t seen before.

Strange how a change in perspective opens our eyes to the things that are obvious. Sometimes a limited view, like the borders of camera’s viewfinder, help to define the beauty that we took for granted before.

The wildlife is betraying spring’s stealthy approach, too. Scores of robins hopped ceremoniously in one field, listening for their supper. I spotted four deer feeding on the grass (I told you it’s getting green!) in next field over. Cutting over to where a row of trees would block their view of me, I stalked closer. When I emerged into view, they had already heard me. One stood stock still, staring me down. I froze, my camera halfway to my eye, and stared back, determined to wait until she decided I was a tree and would glance away for a moment. She seemed unconvinced however, of my vegetative identity, and kept watching, while the light faded, and with it my chance of a good picture.

But not only the robins and the deer know that it’s springtime. I looked at the sky, marveling at the bright blue that seemed so unmatched with the dingy beige and green of the fields—I would never have put them together if I were painting the world, but yet, the combination is beautiful. Then I spotted, far in the distance, a dotted line of geese. Something in their dogged, unswerving pilgrimage always seems so solemn. To my mind, they have the final word that one season has ended, and a new one has begun. When I saw them pressing on, their lines undulating slightly with the beating of patient wings, I nodded quietly within myself, “Yes, it’s spring!” For the geese made an arrow pointed north.

Lentil Salad and Lofty Thoughts at 3:00 AM

2009-03-23T17:30:00.001-07:00

It was 3:00 AM, and time for my lunch break. I went to my own particular corner of the hallway, pulled my particular bench up to my particular heater, and hunkered down to eat my curried lentil salad (anyone who knows me knows that I DO eat strange things!). As I usually do, I took out my Bible to read a bit while I ate. Somehow, sitting all alone there in the quiet hospital, looking out into the starry night, God seems more close to His tired, worn child. He’s the only Friend Who’s still awake at that time of morning, the only One to Whom I can talk and Who will understand the ramblings of my weary mind.

I don’t remember what Psalm I was reading, but one phrase jumped out at me, “The Lord of the whole earth.” The Lord of the whole earth! I think the most powerful person, in terms of governing power, that I’ve met, was probably the first selectman of our town, as he stood in the campaign line while we filed by to place our vote. Thousands of people crowd together for a glimpse of the president of the United States. Some of them even shake his hand, and feel that they will never forget that moment for the rest of their lives. If there should be a single ruler of North America, think what honor should be paid to him! How people would vie for the opportunity to meet him (or her), or even to touch such an important person.

Yet God is the Lord of the whole earth! Every person, from the indigenous tribespeople of the Amazon jungle, to the New York City executives, is under His dominion. The land and resources of every country belong to Him; He knows where every diamond is hidden, the source of every stream, the contour of every unexplored mountain and valley.

But that’s not all! For the earth is only a speck of dust in the galaxy, a small point on one arm of that gigantic rotating collection of stars and planets. And God is the Lord of that galaxy, too! He knows the exact number and even the names (Psalm 147:4) of every single star. But more than that, He is the God of the entire universe, however far that universe lies beyond the discovery of mankind. All of it is within His hand, His power spoke all that grandeur and glory and immensity and beauty into existence.

But that is not the limit of God. For the Bible shows Him not only as Lord of all creation, but also as the Baby Who was born in a manger. He is God Who took upon Himself a human body, with all its physical limitations. He is the Man Who rode on a donkey through dusty streets. Whose tired feet traversed mile after mile of rejection and scorn and misunderstanding. The One Who touched and healed lepers, who wept at the grave of a dead friend, Who sought the outcasts of society to speak grace to them, is no less than the Lord of the whole universe. And it was He who gave His life, dying on a cross made of wood, for the sake of men and women who had refused to be in subjection to the Lord of the whole earth. His justice and righteousness demanded that all sin be paid for by death, and rather than exact that gruesome price from us, the Lord Jesus paid it Himself. He provided forgiveness as a gift to anyone who would take it by faith, simply believing in Christ Jesus and His work on the cross, to take away their sins.

And so, as I lay down on the bench by the window for a short rest, I pillowed my head on the knowledge that the Lord of the whole earth, the Lord of the galaxy, the Lord of the whole universe, knew where I was, and in fact was with me. No longer His enemy, fighting a one-sided battle against a God of love, I am now His joyful subject, His intimate friend, His beloved child. What better thought to be able to enjoy at 3:00 AM?

Pictures!

2009-03-17T17:29:00.000-07:00

My apologies that there have been so few pictures lately...the fact is, I've found that the beauty of springtime is rather hard to catch in a picture. The colors are faded and the snow makes lighting tricky...I have a long way to go in my photography skills! However, here are several pictures from the last couple weeks.

Our very own mountain view. =)

The Most Photographed Piece of Junk Equipment! (hint: you've seen it before =)

A study in heat absorption

Heading for the Connecticut River!

A calla lilly given to my grandmother--only the Lord could design such graceful beauty!

Taken from where I was laying in the grass, dozing in the sunshine. I happened to look up, and the contrast of white and blue caught my eye. Doesn't the tree trunk look like an upside-down bolt of lightening? (or did I just get a little too much sun? =)

Spring is on the March!

2009-03-11T16:33:00.001-07:00

I just discovered that I've been rather a wimp when it comes to spring. I love summer, and fall, and winter too (you can only really appreciate winter if you can get outside in it, though). But spring has long been my least favorite season, because it seems to be characterized by water from above and water in puddles below, making everything rather damp and inconveniently muddy.

However, I decided today to find out if perhaps the key to enjoying spring, like winter, is to get right out in it. And wonderful discoveries did I make!

I first headed out through the fields, where I heard the sound of water running. No, not just sloshing under my boots, but actually running. It turns out that what is in the summer just a slightly inconvenient dip for the hayrake to bump over, is a regular stream in the springtime! Having grown up with a brother who found great fascination in running water and the concurrent erosion patterns, I stopped to notice how the water would run in a little rivulet, disappear under a mini glacier of snow, then reappear further down the way, hurdling over snowmobile tracks in a regular whitewater display!

I spent a while loitering in the hemlock forest, listening to the squirrels scold each other, and enjoying the greenness of the branches amidst a world of brown and black and white. It was really beautiful there, even though I saw my the first mosquito of the year!

After supper, I went out to pile up some of the branches that snapped off our giant pine tree in the big ice storm. The wind had picked up now, and whatever smells it had borne before it reached the pine tree, they were dispelled by its tangy fragrance. That smell makes me think of lazy afternoons at a campground, when there's nothing much to do and one can be perfectly relaxed.

When it was time to quit, I thought about heading inside, but then I saw the ridge behind the barn silhouetted against the darkening sky, and decided I had time for a little stroll up there. As my boots sloshed and slurped through the mud in the barnyard, the wind carried all sorts of smells, some of them pleasant, some of them, well, not so much. But once I was on the hill, the wind just smelled like wind. It was beautiful up there! Ducking under a couple fences, I went right to the highest point on the farm, and stood there on a piece of ledge, right out in the midst of a springtime evening in March. The wind came streaking across the fields, surging against my eardrums, making my ponytail whip with a hissing noise, knocking me off my center of balance, and then, when it seemed that it could hardly move any faster, it whirled around with a boisterous "Haha!" to smack me with another gust. Strange that the touch of moving air can seem so fierce, almost frightening, and yet be thoroughly exhilarating.

I sat down for a little while in the midst of the tumultuous evening. The first star of the evening had appeared, and shone, serene and quiet up in the heavens, seemingly oblivous to the hurry and flurry that surrounded me. It was a speck of clear white light, in the midst of a sky that was painted with greys and muted blues, faded orange and sedate yellow set off by burning pink. The verse came to mind, "then I will know fully, just as I also have been fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12) How good to know that I am fully known by God, and that knowing me, He loves me and has forgiven me because of the Lord Jesus. And what a wondrous hope, that someday I will know fully the One of Whom the power of the wind, the glory of the sunset, the promise of springtime, are just the faintest shadows.

"Father, glorify Thy Name"

2009-03-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

This weekend I got to attend the wedding of two friends (who married each other =). It was a very special time, and as weddings always do, it caused me to contemplate the seasons of life. There are few things, in my opinion, that bring more visible glory to the Lord than when two people who are committed to the Lord individually, are brought together and go on to serve Him together. The beauty of a God-centered marriage gives so much credit to the God who designed marriage in the first place.

But then I realized that God creates every season of life, every set of circumstances in the life of an individual, to bring glory to Himself. I can bring just as much glory to my Savior in my present circumstances, as I shall be able to at any other time in my life, married or not. As long as I am walking in His will, each phase of life will have equal opportunities to serve Him and glorify Him. God has me where I am because at this time in my life, this is the setting in which He will most be glorified, the setting in which I can most please Him and serve Him and enjoy Him.

God can receive as much glory from the life of a teenager working to get through high school, as He can from a missionary serving Him in the jungles. That seems kind of remarkable, at least to my mind. But then I have to ask; was God the Father more glorified by the obedience of the Lord Jesus on the cross, or His obedience in the carpenter’s shop? Was the Lord Jesus more pleasing to God at any one time in His life than at any other? Was not each day of His life in perfect harmony with the Father’s will for Him that day? To have gone to the cross before the appointed time would have been disobedience, as much as it would have been disobedience to shrink from the cross when the hour had come.

How I wish that this truth was more lived out in my life! Today is the day to give God my utmost, to serve Him the way I want to when the time comes for me to enter into “real service”—because that time is already here. It began the day that I came to know the Lord Jesus as my Savior. I don’t have to wait for anything to begin to bear fruit for God, because bearing fruit is a matter of abiding in the Lord Jesus (John 15:5), not of being in particular circumstances. It is so beautiful how the Lord Jesus could say to the Father, “I glorified Thee on the earth, having accomplished the work which Thou hast given me to do.” (John 17:4) Every single day of His life, He accomplished the things that the Father desired Him to do that day.

What an example He is—one that I know I can never live up to. But then I discover that He knows my helplessness, and He doesn’t intend for me to pull this off on my own. He said, “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me, and I in Him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5) He is a vine that produces fruit in every season, under any circumstances, but always with the same result: the Father’s glory and delight.

Today

2009-03-06T05:57:00.000-08:00

One of the most interesting things about my job as an ICU nurse, is the human drama that is woven into every day. It may not always be the stuff of TV shows, but it is the stuff of reality. This week the patient next door to my patient, was a relatively young man who had suffered a massive brain injury in a startling accident. One moment he had been full of vitality and strength, his body surging with adrenaline and the enjoyment of his sport. The next moment, he was lying unconscious in the snow, while memory, and intelligence, and enjoyment, and opportunity, and every ability he had developed, slipped quietly away.

He wasn’t my patient, but I couldn’t help but think about him, as doctors gathered in solemn clusters outside his room, and nurses exchanged significant looks as they glanced at the monitors that condensed the dying process into sets of numbers. Most tragic of all, his family and friends, their faces drawn with weeping, their smiles wiped away, filed in and out, in and out, of his room. The women were shaken and frail looking, the men troubled and awkward.

I thought a lot about death this week. I thought a lot about life, too. Life, which, at least in a physical sense, never extends past today. I don’t have life for tomorrow. Life tomorrow, if I reach it, will only be life today. I cannot live in tomorrow, and I will never die in tomorrow. On whatever day I die, my death will be today.

Today is the day to do the things that I would want to do tomorrow. We see them in the ICU, family members who cling to their dying loved one, desperately watching for a moment of consciousness, a chance to say the things that should have been said long before. Today is the day to be a blessing, to give a hug before we aren’t able to, or before there are tubes and wires in the way. To say every goodbye the way we want to say our final goodbye. To do our best to ensure that we won’t one day be left saying, “If only I had one more chance to….” Today is the day to take advantage of tomorrow’s opportunities.

Today is the day to live life to the fullest. And here I propound my argument that the realization that there may be no tomorrow, while it is sobering, also fills today with multiplied delights. God has given us so many legitimate pleasures to enjoy, why should we not make His heart glad by rejoicing in His gifts? How many thrills and delights sprout up beside my daily path, when I enjoy each experience as though it is my last chance. There can be such pure pleasure in everything I do, from the time I wake up in a warm bed, to the time that I dive into it again at night.

I love how my job reminds me to take nothing for granted. How splendid it is to be able to move and talk and breathe and sing (and whistle =), and work, and play, and see, and hear, and eat, and interact with people who love me, to explore life and enjoy new experiences. How wonderful to not be in a coma, to not even be in pain! I suppose some people will smile when they read this, will think that perhaps a Pollyanna perspective isn’t made for real life. But real life happens at the intersection of life and death; it is there that priorities and true worth become evident.

I enjoy the little pleasures of life now more than ever before. Even when I need to do a very distasteful job, I am reminded that if one day I am bound to a wheelchair, one of the hardest things will be that I won’t be able to serve my loved ones as I used to. I’ll miss being able to clean the bathroom or do the laundry or wash the dishes. Today is the day to enjoy the delights that may be gone tomorrow.

But really, I can only fully enjoy today because the question of my tomorrow is settled. Today has great significance. It could be my last. It will be the last for millions of people. We shrink from this line of thought, and call it morbid, but really, is it so morbid? Solemn, yes, but melancholy and distressing? Maybe it depends. It depends on what the future holds when there is no today left. For me, and for every person who has put their trust in the Lord Jesus to be forgiven of their sins, life is today, but the full enjoyment of eternal life is after today. I’m not eager to die, but I sure am eager to enter into the explosion of life that I’ll be enjoying with God in heaven, when this physical body dies. There’s just no comparison!

But how different it is for the people who have never believed that the Lord Jesus paid for their sins by His death on the cross. I remember how before I put my trust in Him, I was conscious that if I was to die, I would find myself in hell, the place of torment that God prepared for the devil and his angels, the place to which men and women choose to go when they reject the salvation that God provided through the Lord Jesus.

God gives great significance to today. 2 Corinthians 6:2 says, “Now is the day of salvation.” Today is the day to agree with God that we are sinners, and any good things we do can’t make up for the bad things we’ve already done. Today is the day to believe that the Lord Jesus paid for our sins by dying on the cross. Today is the day to receive “the gift of God…eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23) Today is the day to decide about tomorrow.

Sunset on Snow

2009-02-25T15:21:00.000-08:00

Supper was a little late tonight. Blame the glorious evening. Blame my dad who's lending me his digital SLR camera. :) But don't blame me! Who could help spending a few extra minutes in the golden glow that was the sunset tonight? The pictures didn't come out as well as I hoped. But maybe they capture a little of the beauty.

Spring Fever!

2009-02-25T11:59:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone! I know I said that my schedule is crazy and I might not have much time for blog posting, but surely I have time for a tiny post to announce that SPRING is coming! The icicles are dripping, the dooryard is fast becoming mud, each snowfall lasts a shorter time than the last one, the ice is slipping away (ha ha), and spring fever is becoming an epidemic! The birds are singing, the dogs are misbehaving, and I am overcome by fidgets.

The first signs of spring fever began while I was dutifully studying an online course for work, feeling more and more like a glob as I pinched the threatening abdominal fat that the module described. There were rather too many excess calories demanding to be expended, and my muscles began to be restless. The symptoms multiplied when I went out to the greenhouse with Grammy and dug my fingers in the dirt, and smelled that wonderful aroma of soil warming in the sunlight. Spring fever exploded into full manifestation when I got out into the glorious, dazzling sunlight with my snowshoes (actually, my dear aunt's snowshoes :), and proceeded trekking up and down a hill to burn off something or other. That vigorous exercise soon confirmed my globular status, and I decided to take a break in the midst of my self-prescribed 10 laps, and head further up the hill to a spot with a nicer view.

The snow there has been carved by the wind coming over the crest of the hill; I can't decide if it looks more like the ripples left by receding waves, or growth rings in a tree. Maybe later in the day, when the light isn't so dazzling, I can get a picture to post on here. There was a patch of ground left mostly bare, and after looking at it for a little while and deliberating, I unsnapped my snowshoes and sprawled out on the earth, which was moist but not as cold as I expected. It was splendid to lay there in the sunshine and realize that the warmth of the sun overcame the cold of the air.

But it is still only February, and eventually the moistness began to lose its novelty, and I got up to finish my laps on the hillside and head in for more studying, denying yet another symptom of spring fever, the desire to climb one of the maple trees at the bottom of the hill. That will have to wait. After all, I am a busy girl. But I hope none of us are too busy to enjoy the spring that is just barely around the corner. It's too good to miss!

A Puzzle

2009-02-25T04:48:00.001-08:00

Sorry for the silence on the blog lately! It's not been for lack of desire to blog, but my schedule has been just a bit crazy, and will be for a couple more weeks. I'll be back as soon as I can, though! In the meantime, I thought I'd post something I wrote over the summer:

Puzzling Pieces

We live life the way we put together a puzzle—one piece at a time. As a puzzle takes shape, every single piece is important, even the boring ones. The design on each piece may not make sense by itself, but when you put it in its place, the complete picture is revealed. In the same way, isolated experiences in life may not seem to be significant, or to make sense to us, but without them, the whole design would not be complete.

Sometimes, there is a gap in the puzzle, for which you can’t find the right piece. You find one that looks like it might work, try to make it fit, and when it doesn’t, you are disappointed. It SHOULD fit—see how the design matches so well? You could leave it there, just because you think it ought to fit, but that will only tangle the whole scheme. If you wait long enough, though, you’ll come upon the piece that doesn’t just fit well, but fits perfectly. Nothing else could substitute for it. Whatever your idea might have been, it wasn’t as good as the designer’s. We may feel strongly that we have discovered something or someone to meet a particular need in our lives—perhaps it is not the ideal solution, but it will do. Yet our Designer does His work perfectly, not almost perfectly. If we refuse to settle for second best, and wait to see what He has in mind, things will come together seamlessly in the end.

Perhaps you come upon a piece that looks like it belongs to a particular part of the puzzle—the tree, perhaps, or the red wagon. But no matter how diligently you try to fit it into that spot, it doesn’t work. Suddenly, when you are putting together an entirely different area of the puzzle, your eye falls on that piece—and it’s just right. It did have a place, only not where you expected. There may be skills, relationships, or experiences that we had anticipated would fulfill a particular purpose in our lives, only to find out that they ultimately had an entirely different role. But in the end, we have to agree that the Designer knows best.

There’s one way in which life is not like a puzzle—we don’t have the picture on the puzzle box to refer to. Only at the end of our lives will we finally see how all things worked together for good, how the Designer brought a beautiful whole out of all the pieces. But it will be worth the wait, for then our sorrows will be turned into joy, our frustration into wondering admiration, and we shall see our lives, as mundane, confusing, and imperfect as they were, bringing glory to God.

Old Things

2009-02-16T17:27:00.000-08:00

Tonight was a beautiful time for a walk. Much of our snow has melted, leaving bare patches that awaken faint memories of what summer is like! The sky was crisply clear, which meant the sunset wasn’t too spectacular, but sometimes cold winter sunsets are beautiful, just because there is such clarity and simplicity in the colors, various shades of blue and grey, with blushing hints of salmon color near the horizon.

After tramping around in the high pastures, I went down to the pond, which I have rather neglected in my photography this winter. Locked in the colorless chill of winter, the shapes and textures of the ice and snow and weed stalks, became distinctive. It was a beauty which blended perfectly with the simplicity of the evening.

I was sorely tempted to go out on the glossy ice, but not being sure that it was thick enough, and being alone, I decided not to risk it. Instead I made myself look like an idiot crouching down in the grass and weeds at the edge, photographing all sorts of commonplace plants.
I’ve never been an antiques person. But I do have an interest in old things. My life is largely spent with elderly people, and it has been a very enlightening experience. At the end of life, like at the end of a cold, clear winter day, distracting details and embellishments are stripped away, and the important things come into focus. Summertime colors have fled, and only the substance remains. Sometimes, ornate roses fade, and all that remains are thorns, hidden until now by foliage and brilliant hues.

But sometimes when verdant colors have been drained away, and the glossiness of vibrant life has been rubbed off, a new beauty emerges, simpler and sturdier. It is the same beauty that fascinates me about other old things, like the dried grasses that I was photographing tonight. Their beauty is in their simplicity, in the fact that when all ornament is stripped away, they are innately lovely.

I’ve met people like that, too. Their physical glory, like the flower of grass, has withered. Their muscles have shrunken, their cheeks have faded, their chins have sagged, their hair has lost its shine. And yet no one would call them unattractive, for they have a truer beauty that attracts every person who spends a few moments with them. And just as they were radiant in youthful vitality, they are radiant in happy peace.

If only we had a right sense of beauty, we would save ourselves a lot of stress in front of the mirror in our young years, and a lot of mourning in front of the same mirror in our older years. Perhaps it would be a good thing for all of us to spend more time on our knees in the snow, discovering the beauty that is unveiled by winter.

A Few Miscellaneous Pictures

2009-02-15T14:47:00.001-08:00

Yet Another Sunset

Makin' Tracks

What do you suppose he wants?

A Nurse Goes Skiing

2009-02-09T16:58:00.000-08:00

Today I went cross-country skiing. It was a perfectly splendid morning; the birds seemed to whisper, “spring!” in their songs, and the sun shone warmly, though the air was crisp and cold. It was a wonderful day to be alive, and I thought what a blessing it was to be able to get outdoors and enjoy it. How many people are shut up in hospitals or nursing homes, or bound to their wheelchairs because of some accident. Who knows, next year at this time, I could be one of them. What better incentive to enjoy to the fullest every wonderful thing about that morning ski expedition!

So as I skimmed along (in between falls), I reveled at the thought of everything that was going right inside of me. Complex electrical pathways in my heart were functioning beautifully, setting off a wonderfully choreographed dance, atria and ventricles contracting in perfect timing, valves snapping shut, the arteries in my heart perfusing beautifully between each beat. I was taking deep, easy breaths, thanks to the special membranes and lubrication that provided negative pressure to open my lungs. Split second transactions of oxygen and carbon dioxide were occurring across delicate, but all important, membranes. Blood was surging through my body, helping my stomach and intestines sort out nutrients and deliver them where needed, and filtering through the liver and spleen and kidneys for the removal of waste products. In my kidneys and certain arteries, pressure receptors measured my blood pressure, which data my brain used to regulate my heart rate and the secretion of hormones to maintain proper blood volume.

Much of the blood was shunted to my muscles, where muscle fibers contracted and relaxed, supplied by energy factories within their cells, and responding to neurotransmitters that were released by precise electrical stimulation across miscroscopic gaps. Those nerves, designed for maximum transmission speed, traced back to my spinal cord and brain, where millions of connections allowed for smooth communication between all the different parts of my body and my brain. The blood headed to my brain, ready to deliver the glucose at the precise concentrations provided by my pancreas and liver. The brain must have the glucose and oxygen to survive—but the blood itself would permanently damage brain tissue, if it wasn’t for a specialized barrier that allowed only the proper substances to pass to those hard-working neurons. My brain was functioning with incomprehensible complexity and precision. It was interpreting an inverted picture from my eyes, and adjusting the size of my pupils to compensate for the brilliant glare of sun on snow. My ears registered a huge span of sounds, from the twitter of birds, to the scraping of my skis on snow, and integrated them with memory to allow me to make sense of my surroundings. The collection of tubes and hairs and tiny stones in my ear also registered my position, and allowed me to keep my balance—at least most of the time. My cerebellum calculated the force with which to contract each muscle, coordinated muscle groups to work together, and signaled instantaneous responses to a slip or slide on the snow.

All this happened without my thought. But if any of those functions had stopped working, I would have been in big trouble—perhaps soon ending up in the ICU where I work. As it was, I had plenty of free mental power to contemplate the splendor of the world around me, the mind-blowing wonder of the world within me, and the God Who made both of them.

One thing that I love about my job is that it’s teaching me not to take anything for granted, a single breath of air, a single pulse of my heart, a single effortless muscle contraction, a single swallow of food. There may come a day when I would give anything to be able to catch a breath on my own, or to be able to take a single step. Unless the Lord Jesus returns first, there is going to be a time when my heart pumps for the last time, when my neurons fire and then are still forever, when my kidneys stop working and I’ll be killed silently by raging chemical imbalances. There will almost certainly be a day when I will catch my final glimpse of sunshine, feel the wind no more blowing into my face and down my collar. When the beauty of a winter day will call for me in vain, because my steps are too feeble to venture outdoors. I’ll never be able to hear the birds call again, or perhaps I’ll never be able to see a blue sky or smell spring in the air. Then, I will wish that I had enjoyed it more when I had the chance. I’ll regret that I didn’t fully appreciate the wonder and beauty of life. So laugh if you will at my fascination with the anatomy and physiology of life. I sure enjoyed that morning ski!

Stars and Promises

2009-02-05T18:06:00.001-08:00

Last night I went down the road to my aunt’s house. As I stepped out the door, I threw my head back and took a great breath of the cold night air, hoping it would help to cool the friction of a mind moving too quickly. As I let out my breath, a cloud of steam shot up into the night, and for a moment, the brilliant stars were obscured. But when it evaporated, I could see that they truly were brilliant, shining with intense, colorless light that looked more like the cold flash of diamonds than fiery infernos reposed in space. As I walked down the road, my head thrown back to see the sky, and my feet finding their own way on the pavement, I began to think how God’s promises are like stars.

There they are, glinting and flashing in glorious beauty, those “precious and magnificent promises,” never changing, and so precise that we can set the course of our lives by them. The old-time sailor, lost on a hiccupping sea, had only to catch a glimpse of the stars, and he knew where he was, and where to steer. He trusted his whole life upon the stars, and because they were unchanging, he was safe, no matter how bewildering his circumstances. Sometimes God gives us a promise that is our soul’s only sure hope, amid the confusion and clatter of life. This summer, as I faced numerous big decisions, the star by which I set my course was Psalm 25:12, “Who is the man who fears [reveres] the Lord? He will instruct him in the way he should choose.” When I felt lost in swirling perplexities, that star shone steady and bright, and brought me out to a place where I could see my way clearly.

The stars never change—but their beauty and steadfastness is never known until darkness falls. The darker the night, the more stars emerge from the blackness, and the more brilliantly they shine. There are promises of God that never become real to us until we need them. Then, as we turn in desperation to God’s Word, we find that, on every page, He has sown more promises than we ever dreamed of, which together meet perfectly every single need that we have. And the darker that circumstances become, the more precious and magnificent those promises are to us.

Strange, then, that we so often allow those promises to be obscured by the steam of our own breath.

Sunsets and Snowstorms

2009-02-04T05:50:00.001-08:00

Two pictures of the same sunset; I couldn't decide which one I liked better. What's your vote?

Why, hello Clover!

So if you were CJ, would YOU be chewing your cud in weather like this? :)

Anxious Thoughts

2009-01-27T16:38:00.001-08:00

I went for a short walk tonight after dark. It was a beautiful, cold winter night. The coming snowstorm hadn't yet blotted out the stars. The snow creaked sharply under my boots. The woods were perfectly still, as though the trees were holding their breath. It was a beautiful night.

And yet, some of the beauty was lost on me, because of the uneasiness that comes with being alone in the dark. The last time I went for a nighttime walk, I had a strong brother with me, and thought hardly a moment about my safety. But now, my ears were strained for the noise of footsteps behind me, my eyes searched the snowy landscape. Why the difference? Was it that there were more dangers tonight? No, of course not. Was it that before, I was sure my brother could defend me from every possible danger or combination of threats? No, I knew he would do everything within his power to keep me safe, but surely there are some dangers that no man can ward off singlehandedly. I think the difference was that tonight, the responsibility of my safety rested in my hands, whereas before, I trusted my brother entirely to protect me. It was his responsibility, and so I didn't think a moment about it, but thoroughly enjoyed tramping about in the snow.

I wonder why it is that, though I can trust a human being so completely, I struggle to entrust myself utterly to God. Why, when I begin to worry about something, can I not remember, "It's His responsibility," and trust Him so fully that I forget to be anxious? I sure would enjoy the walk more.

Last night I was struck by the last two verses of Psalm 139, especially the phrase, "Try me and know my anxious thoughts." Why did the psalmist ask God to know his anxious thoughts? Why not his sorrowful thoughts, his perplexed thoughts, his wrong thoughts?

Could it be that David recognized that his anxious thoughts were the keys to the real issues of his life, the things that were important to him? If I want a summary of my priorities, all I have to do is notice the things that I'm being anxious about. Am I anxious for my success, my reputation, my glory, my comfort? Then those are my priorities. Am I anxious for God's glory, for the success of His work, for souls to be saved and Christians to grow in the Lord? Then perhaps those are my priorities. But wait! Does God really want me to be anxious about even those things? True, He wants me to desire the things He desires, and perhaps to have fellowship with Him in sorrowing over the things that break His heart. But has He not also said, "Be anxious for nothing," "casting all your anxiety upon Him, because He cares for you."?

Imagine what it would be like to live with absolutely no anxiety! No anxiety over big things, decisions I must make or challenges I face. No anxiety over little things, how to organize my day, or whether I'll be able to reach the store before it closes. No anxiety over the things that will happen, no anxiety about the things that could happen. No anxiety about the snowstorm that's coming tomorrow, or about the gas prices going up. No anxiety about the direction in which the new administration will take our country. No anxiety about the traffic lights that turn red just before I get to them. No anxiety about what others will think of me. No anxiety about anything.

"But," we find ourselves saying, "I'm not really anxious about those things. Just concerned, trying to be responsible." People who are responsible, make sure that responsibilities are given to the people who can handle them. I can't do a thing about the weather, nor about the traffic lights, nor about the gas prices. And with so many of the other things I get anxious about, there are some actions that I can and should take, but then my job is just to give it to the One Who is ultimately responsible for them. He loves to bear our burdens, and He doesn't need our help to bear His. We can be glad for everything that is beyond our power, because that means that it's His responsibility. We get to simply enjoy the walk!

Winter

2009-01-26T15:40:00.001-08:00

Today was just gorgeous; despite the chilling temperatures, I was soon lured outside with my camera to try to capture some of the splendor. No profound thoughts to go with them today. :)

This is a bad picture artistically, but isn't there something wonderful about birds singing among the icicles?

Ice Meets Sunshine

(and don't bother trying to figure out how to cock your head...I took it at a funky angle)

Afire with God

2009-01-17T16:11:00.000-08:00

Some great excerpts from an essay written by John Macbeath, which I found in What a Friend We Have In Jesus.

The sweet singers of Israel saw God in everything....to them the earth was crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God. "Study nature," urged Kingsley, "do not study nature for its own sake, but as the countenance of God. Try to extract every line of beauty, every association, every moral reflection, every inexpressible feeling from it. Adore God!"

It would be impossible for us to tell how much of the merit we find in nature is to be attributed to the knowledge of life and of God which we have derived from Jesus Christ. An honest investigation would prove that appart from the teaching of Christ and His influence on human thought, we should find nature to be a very inadequate instructor. Nature, without Christ, does not offer intelligent and intimate communion with the Unseen. No one can say that he is acquainted with an artist because he admires the artist's workmanship....A whole world of progress lies between these two points of expression, "The heavens declare the glory of God," and "The glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." The one indicates greatness, the other expresses grace. The first exhibits power, the second presents personality. The former is material, the latter is spiritual....

There is no remoteness in God. He enjoys the world down to the last rose of summer or the last swallow in flight, and above all He loves man. The Old Testament celebrates the glory of creation when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy. The New Testament heralds the glory of God's redemption, "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." That is the music of an infinitely mightier and sweeter song. --The Face of Christ (London: Marshall Morgan and Scott, 1935), What a Friend We Have in Jesus, (Gospel Folio Press, 2003)

A view of the fading sunset through some of the icicles that adorn our eaves.

Religous?

2009-01-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

Well, this post doesn't really have anything to do with nature...except that it kind of grew out of my evening ski through the fields tonight. 'Twas a splendid evening out there!

Often when I speak with people about spiritual things, they comment, “I’m not religious.” Usually I say something like, “Oh, I’m not either, I just believe the Bible and have a relationship with God through Jesus Christ.”

But I wonder if I should answer differently. Maybe I am religious after all. Is it religion to have a friend who loves you, and whom you love? A friend whom you love to think about, and who loves to think about you? A friend who lives daily life with you, who knows and really cares what you’re going through? Then I am religious, because God is that Friend to me.

Is it religion for a girl to read and re-read and read again, letters from a lover who must for a time be separated? To find in every word and stroke of the pen, reference to the character of her beloved? To memorize his words of love to her? Then I am religious, because the Bible is a love letter to me.

Is it religion for a child to climb up on her daddy’s lap, and sob on his shoulder because of the things that hurt her and which she can’t understand? Then I am religious, because God is that Father to me.

Is it religion to tell a friend the things that are on your mind, to ask for some of their wisdom, to prattle on about all the events of your day, knowing that the friend wants to hear it? Then I am religious, because prayer is the only way that I have to express some of my thoughts and emotions.

Is it religion to heed the warnings, and follow the instructions, of one who is wiser than you? Then I am religious, because God’s commandments are the teachings that I try to observe.
Is it religion to attend a gathering to celebrate the accomplishments of a mutual friend? To rehearse the ways in which that friend has excelled, to rejoice together in his successes and the nobility of his character? Then I am religious, because I gather once a week with other believers in the Lord Jesus, to remember together everything that He has done for us, and just how wonderful He is.

Is it religion to believe one who has always been faithful, and to take his word over that of other people—who have been known to make mistakes or fail? Then I am religious, because I have staked everything upon God’s word.

Is it religion to tell other people about the one who has made your life bright and full of joy and love? Then I am religious, because there’s no other cause that would induce me to risk the ridicule and scorn of those who don’t yet know my Savior.

So I guess maybe I am religious after all, if that’s the kind of life that you would consider religious. But wait—you said you aren’t?

Dawn

2009-01-14T12:40:00.000-08:00

Friday, 1/9/09
This morning I went for a walk to see the sunrise and take pictures. It was quite cold, around 12 degrees. There was a hint of pink in the sky as I tramped out, along the road to the orchard. I followed the tractor ruts in the snow, trying not to get my boots full of snow. They went out to the woods pasture and back to the bottom of the hill where we camped in the summer. The heifers turned to look at me as I went by, but other than that, I was alone. Apparently I didn’t need to be in quite such a rush to get out there, because the sun was a long time in rising. I stood watching the grey clouds, which covered most of the sky, but were slit apart at the horizon, where that glimmer of pink intensified very slowly.

Behind me, the forest whispered and rustled, as though the night was gathering up its skirts to sneak away before the sun could catch it. I took some pictures, but it was so hard to capture the frigid greys and whites in my camera. Getting chilly, I decided to walk down to the pond, but because I didn’t want to mar the suave whiteness of new-fallen snow, I traced the paths of the wild things who had been before me. It was fascinating how their tracks converged and diverged, swirling here and there to pursue some interesting scent. Down to the pond they went eventually, where the ice was covered with a riotous networks of tracks. One could just imagine all the animals, small, medium, and large, dancing around on the ice.
As I traced my way up the hill, the eastern horizon was becoming more and more golden bright, and the clouds were now almost entirely swept from the sky. As I stood at the top of the hill, all of a sudden, with the exuberance of a surprise arrival, the sun dawned. The landscape, once so cold and flat in the grey light, was now dazzling with golden light, shades of pink, and billions of sparkling snow diamonds.

The morning air was fresh and alive, and the whole world seemed to be rejoicing. I felt like a child on Christmas morning who can’t decide what new toy to play with first. Everywhere I looked was beauty, and although I did my best, I knew that there was no way my pictures would be able to capture it. The landscape was too vast, the light too brilliant, the contrasts too dramatic, the glory too inexpressible—and finally, the time was too short.

As I went back indoors, I thought what a glorious picture of hope I had just experienced. The night had seemed unending, the cold so heartless, and the sky, which held the only hope of light and warmth, was cloudy and dull. But then—suddenly, gloriously, the sun rose. And the dazzling beauty made it hard to remember what the darkness had been like. Makes me think of Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” And 2 Corinthians 4:17,18, “for momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen, for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” One of these days, the glory of the sun is going to seem like darkness, because the Son shall be revealed, with a beauty, warmth, and magnificent brilliance that we never dreamed of. It’ll be worth the wait.

Dusk

2009-01-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, January 6, 2009
In the late afternoon, I bolted outside for a walk before the sun had gone too low for me to take pictures. I thoroughly enjoyed that walk. There is a certain beauty in wintertime scenery that is hard to describe. There is some visible beauty, if you look for it, the delicate tracery of branches against the satiny gray sky, the shine of sunshine on ice, the bare curves of hills and valleys. But it’s no beauty to compare with the luscious summer or lavish fall. I think the beauty is more one of simplicity, with no pretense or show. It’s the beauty of ceasing to strive for beauty. The plain crunch of snow underfoot, the freedom to walk anywhere without any pretense of following the paths that lie beneath the snow, the stark colors of black and white, the transparent chill of the air, the utter quietness.

There one can be alone and really feel alone; there is no foliage that could hide onlookers from sight, no rustling leaves to conceal the sound of footsteps. I felt no obligation to follow the paths, but cut from the big field up to the orchard, then up through the woods. I stopped a while on top of the knoll there to pray. Surrounded by the transparent honesty of winter, it was easy to be transparently honest with God about some of my frustrations and perplexities.
Next, I went along the edge of the forest, tracing the perimeter of the hill pastures, and taking pictures of the sun which was setting. My mind was snagged from its perplexing thoughts to figure out how best to capture the glory of the sun, setting with orange and gold highlights beside the dark, dark green pines. I flopped on my back in the snow to try to get the widest angle possible, and then had to figure out how to remove the snow which had slipped in my clothes.

After that I made my way over those wonderful dramatic humps of ledge that are up in the high pastures, and back along the stone wall to get a picture of the sun setting behind my rock of meditation.

Ice

2009-01-14T10:50:00.000-08:00

December 13
We had a very severe ice storm that wreaked havoc for many citizens, as great numbers were without power and trees were down across many roads. However, it WAS beautiful! A couple mornings after the storm, I drove to the house of some friends.

The drive over there was incredibly, stunningly, gorgeous. As I got closer to their house, there was more and more ice covering everything. To say that it was dazzling like crystal, is a trite understatement. Absolutely everything in nature was glazed with sparkling ice. The trees drooped, some of them gracefully, some of them in grotesque globs, their branches laden with jewels. The brushy places, rather than being disorganized thickets, were bouquets of silver. It’s amazing how artistic the Lord made nature to be. I thoroughly enjoyed the drive over, and thankfully the roads were not slippery, for the most part, because I could gaze all the more at the enchanting beauty. I stopped several times to take pictures.

"Out of the south comes the storm, And out of the north the cold. "From the breath of God ice is made, And the expanse of the waters is frozen.
(Job 37:9-10)

He gives snow like wool; He scatters the frost like ashes. He casts forth His ice as fragments; Who can stand before His cold?
(Psa 147:16-17)

Autumn

2009-01-14T10:04:00.000-08:00

We had a simply glorious autumn this year. The week before I started work, I had extra free time, and spent a while just photographing the splendor.

The voice of the LORD...strips the forests bare; And in His temple everything says, "Glory!"
(Psa 29:9)

Shorn Fields

2009-01-14T09:57:00.000-08:00

July 18
I decided to answer the call of the lovely evening, and go for a little walk. It was about 8:20 or so, and the farm was deserted. I went out past the barn, which was empty, with the fencers clicking away comfortingly, and the dusky manure smell lingering in the air. Then, it was out to the open field, where the breeze carried the definite smell of the dry hay. It seemed to me that the fields were already greening up a little bit after the last cutting of hay. Somehow, when the grass is long, full of birds and bugs and rustling movement, it seems like the field has a life of its own, and keeps to itself, while you watch from the outside. But when it has been mown short, there’s no pretense about it, and instead, there is a feeling of familiarity and fellowship, which was accentuated by the fact that I recognized the dips and contours much better after having raked over them again and again when we were haying. Then, the bumps and craters seemed like jolting little nuisances; now, in the all-forgiving twilight, they seemed more like the warts and wrinkles that we all must bear with in one another. Those fields have seen so much over the years that the family has been on this farm. Men and women have left their blood, sweat, and tears in that soil, and now I’ve added mine too, though in a comparatively trivial measure. I know there’s nothing sacred about the land; it’s just dirt and a lot of rocks. But the lives that have labored together on this land are precious, and so are the memories that have been formed here. I walked down to the edge of the turtle pond field, overheard the birds calling goodnight to each other from their bedchambers in the hedge, then turned around. The tree frogs were creaking out their rhythmic, nonchalant melody, as though to say to the world, “Calm down, everybody. It’s bedtime. You can finish that in the morning.”

Evening Thoughts

2009-01-12T09:22:00.000-08:00

July 24 The Lord gave me a good encouragement this evening. When I came into the kitchen, I heard Grampie saying, evidently in reply to something Grammy had said, “Home? This is our home, though not our eternal home.” I said, “That’s right, and our eternal home is so much better!”
“Perfect!” Grampie said.
“And we all can’t wait to get there.” “
But I guess that’s one thing we have to do—wait,” Grampie replied.
“It’ll be worth the wait, though, and all the better for it!”

“Lord Jesus, come! Thy Bride her Lord would see,
And know the joy of being like to Thee;
So worlds on worlds will see what grace has done,
As long as everlasting ages run.”
~Samuel Trevor Francis

After supper, I was itching to get out in the fields. So once I got Grammy started on dishes, I headed out. I walked out past the shop, where the guys were working, up through the barnyard, under the fence, and up the rocky path to my favorite high pasture.

I climbed fast, eager to get up to my special thinking place on the rock wall. I went by the cows, chewing on the lush grass, and one of them reached out her nose to touch my outstretched hand. Her nose was warm and slick.

I ducked under the fence, and walked through the buttercups, clover, and dandelions, beaded with rain. As I dropped into the little valley cradled like the palm of a hand, there was that magical feeling of being all alone, on the top of a mountain somewhere.

Grey blue hills met blue green grass on two sides of the horizon, while on the others, trees stood against the sky. I soon reached my special rock. It was a wonderful half hour. The wind was blowing strongly and steadily, pushing away the clouds. I sat facing into the wind, letting it push back my hair, flap my shirt sleeves, and blow into my mouth. The wind seems like such a cleansing thing, like standing in a strong current and feeling it swoosh past.

It was so good to be alone with the Lord, to pour out all that was in my heart and on my mind, to face the vague things which bothered me throughout the day, to lift up my eyes to the sky and think of the Lord of glory who was just on the other side. To smile up at Him and be beyond the view or hearing of any human person. Indeed, the wind drowned out many other noises, so that I seemed even more alone than some other times.

Far away, so small that I could hardly see them, were two birds, leaping on the currents of wind, tossing up and down and around. I told the Lord I want to be like them, resting on the wind of His will, whatever direction it might take, exulting in joy and freedom. Farther away than the birds, were the very distant hills, each ridge a shade fainter than the one before it, stretching until the last ridge I could see was only a very distant, rust colored outline, in the clouds and humidity, illumined by the setting sun. Some of the hills nearest to me were still in shadow, while the shoulders of the hills beyond were illumined by sunshine.

I could not even see the sun from where I stood, because of the clouds, but while I stood there (for I stood up in the wind to see the hills), the clouds began to be swept away and leave clear sky, so that while the evening grew older, it did not become darker, for the sun was unveiled more and more.

Eventually, I got down from the wall, and headed back to the farm. I met the cows again, munching away. Some of them stopped and stared at me, others lifted their heads and kept on chewing while tossing a careless glance in my direction; others ignored me altogether, but chewed away. They were in the ravine pasture, and very picturesque, scattered over the steep shoulders of the two adjoining hills. I came back, feeling as though I had left some troubles behind me, back to the world of everyday life.

Clouds

2009-01-12T09:06:00.001-08:00

July 14
The evening was so gorgeous, that I decided to go for a walk up in the hill pastures. It was simply lovely. I went up past a crest in the hill, out of sight of all humanity, and spent quite a while just standing, looking up into the sky. Where the sun was going down, the sky was a gentle salmon color, and the leaves of the trees looked so graceful outlined against it.

There were ragged, clumpy clouds that would have looked sullen with their charcoal grey and edges and bottoms that were almost a light maroon. However, the sky above them was still smiling blue, with white and ivory cirrus clouds shimmering in graceful strands. The ragged clouds glided one way, with the smooth cirrus above them, so that it was hard to tell which was moving, or perhaps it was both, moving in opposite directions. The grey clouds almost looked like debris floating slowly down a stream that had a shining sandy bed.

I stood there a long time, thanking the Lord for bringing me here for the summer, and for giving me even just the enjoyment of this single evening. I told Him about the things on my mind, asked Him about the decisions I need to make, and just marveled at His beauty and the fact that, while He is infinitely more glorious than those clouds, He is also infinitely more near and concrete, as close as they looked just then. It was a good time to be completely alone with Him, away from the view of everyone, and kind of get re-calibrated. I’m finding that it’s a really good practice just to drop everything for a few minutes, several times a day, and just go to Him.

2009-01-12T08:36:00.001-08:00

July 3 I decided to go out and enjoy the splendid morning. I went for a walk through the fields; I decided not to run because then I couldn’t enjoy the splendor of the weather so much. It was sunny, and quite windy. I wished I had my camera, but I knew that there would be no way to capture the drumming of the wind in my ears, the swoosh of the long grasses blowing in the breeze, the warmth of the sunshine, and the magnificent, changing colors. Depending on whether the sun was out or behind a cloud, the grass looked more yellow or blue, as though the two colors that made the luscious green were competing with one another.

There was clover, and buttercups, some dandelions, vetch, and other flowers I don’t know the names of. I scared a deer out of one of the multifloral rose hedges; he went zipping up the field in front of me. After going almost to the last field and back, I got my camera and went out again. As I came home, there were dark clouds in the southwest, and they seemed to be encroaching on the sunshine. The wind was still blowing vigorously, but it didn’t seem quite as friendly as before.

The Lord has given us so much to enjoy. I've been thinking lately that the way most of us live life, is like someone who would chew a piece of an orange only once, then swallow it. If they would just chew a little more, there'd be a whole lot more juice to enjoy. Even so, we rush through life forgetting to fully enjoy the experiences the Lord has given us...and we wouldn't necessarily even have to slow down, so we can't say we don't have the time. There'd be a lot more happiness in life, I think, if we really enjoyed the things that the Lord has given us for our delight. That goes for everything, whether it means noticing how comfortable a chair really is, savoring every bite of food, enjoying the cool feeling of water on your face when you shower, noticing the beautiful colors in creation, delighting in the feeling of taking deep breaths of air without any difficulty, or feeling your pulse bouncing and thrilling at the life that is vibrating within you. It means running up the stairs and rejoicing that nothing hurts, or laying in bed and being conscious of the relaxation of every muscle. It means noticing the singing of birds, the scent of clover, the graceful swirl of clouds. Usually we notice things when they are uncomfortable or something is wrong; it would be way better to rejoice in all the things that are right and lovely and splendid. The world would be a much happier place if we all lived life that way—and all of these things could be done without slowing down the pace of life. How much time do our brains spend just vegetating, when we could be enjoying things?!

Fog

2009-01-12T08:26:00.000-08:00

Friday, June 27, 2008
Got out for a nice walk/run this morning. It was very foggy, such that when I was out in the field the only sign of man’s presence was the wheel-ruts I was walking in. Everything else, except the dew-laden grass and buttercups and dandelions, the trees and hedges emerging from the fog, and the birds singing and swooping about, was grayed out. I felt really and truly alone, with so many of the distractions taken away. I think that must be how Moses felt out in the desert. As the clamor in my heart started to subside, it was good to know the Lord’s presence with me, and to be able to think about Who He is and what He has done, and His heart toward me. I went twice the distance that I sometimes go, just because it was so good to be alone there. As I started to come back, the sun began to appear. First it was so faint that I could look straight at its disc, without squinting. Soon, it was too bright for that, but still the fog was thick, so I was still alone. When I came back, I got my camera and tried to get some pictures of the buttercups in the dewy grass. Everything was so laden with moisture. Even the hairs on my arms were silvery with the mist, and when I blinked my eyes hard, I could feel the wetness on my eyelashes.

Under The Pine Tree

2009-01-12T08:10:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, June 24
After supper I saw the sunset falling in golden sprays along the lawn; it was at just the right height to accentuate every lush fold and wave of the grass. It seemed too bad to sit inside when there was all that beauty outdoors, so I decided to go just lay out on the grass under our big pine tree, like a little kid.
It was just splendid. I thoroughly enjoyed every second, every sensation. The grass, just a tiny bit damp, just a little prickly, gathered around my body. The breeze swept gently over my face, like the whoosh from the skirts of a lady dancing in slow motion. Birds chirped and tittered around me, now and then some children’s voices could be heard, the frogs were tuning up for the night, and every so often a bee or fly buzzed over. It was pure relaxation, lying there, and I thanked the Lord that whatever busy, hectic, frightening, or dangerous times I might have in my future, I could always look back to this minute of perfect happiness. I thought of the kids who have grown up in the cities, and never can get away from the horns, shouts, traffic, and pollution. What an absolute privilege to be here, right now.
I opened my eyes, and admired the way that the puffy pine boughs were undergirded by the great black limbs. I could smell the tangy scent on the breeze every so often. My eyes feasted on the colors; dark brown, rich green, bright, gentle blue sky, and pearly clouds. Then, I got caught up watching the antics of the little birds that were catching their supper on the tree. I don’t know what kind of birds they are; I think perhaps nuthatches. They have very pointy beaks that make them look a little ferocious, even though they look like the size of a dollup of whipped cream on a spoon. Very important they seemed to feel, scurrying around on the trunk and branches like little highways, then drawing up short and standing at attention, as though trying to glare someone down. Then, they’d suddenly dig their beak into the bark, and pull up a worm, which they’d munch industriously before hopping away again. Once, one of the birds seemed to tumble off the trunk, drop a few feet, and stick back onto the tree like a ball of Velcro, with a little moth in his beak. Another time, one took a nosedive down toward me, only to flick up and away. I think I saw about three of them busy at the same time. Once, two of them came scuttling along their respective roadways, only to meet and exchange a flurry of titters. I couldn’t figure out if they were friends meeting one another with surprised exclamations, or if the sound was more like the honking of horns, irate motorists each informing the other to get on his side of the road. Either way, they zoomed off momentarily to their respective precincts.
The sun went behind a cloud, the mosquitoes started to circle above me, and the breeze lost its smile. I looked over at the house, and saw Grammy waving cheerily at me. I waved back.
I sat up, looked around, bade goodnight to the sun, which had peeked from behind the clouds in dazzling brightness, and headed inside. The imprints of the grass soon faded from my arms and legs, but the imprint of those golden minutes will last a long time.

Catch up!

2009-01-11T18:46:00.000-08:00

Hello everybody! Now that I finally have a blog, there's a lot of stuff from the last few months that I'd like to put up. So enjoy the summertime posts while you toast yourself by the woodstove and watch the snow fall! I don't know how frequently this will be updated; it all depends on how much time I have for tramping around with my camera. And if the abundance of adjectives and descriptive devices drives you crazy, I'm sorry...but then, maybe I'm not. After all, there's really no words that are adequate to describe some of the beauty that's around us. My prayer is that as we all enjoy God's splendid creation, we'll be inspired to get to know Him better, through His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. After all, creation just gives a glimpse of God's character, while the Lord Jesus is "the radiance of His glory, and the exact representation of His nature." (Hebrews 1:3).

A note about the title of the blog...as you probably guessed, it is from the verse that's on the sidebar of the blog, Psalm 65:8. That Psalm has a wonderful description of how God blesses His creation, and it speaks in two places of His creation shouting for joy. From dawn right through the day until sunset, His handiwork shouts out His praise. And don't you think it would do us good to take a lesson from Creation, and let out a good shout of joy every so often? We sure have a lot to rejoice about!