Autumn Evening Light

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As I stepped outside this evening, the light was incredible. The leaves are slowly leaving the trees and squirrel nests are visible from the ground. I walked outside to be inspired to write something. Like the fall season, it’s like my mind is slowing down and wanting to hibernate for a bit.

The scent of the leaves and the sound of the trees rustling gently in the evening light was just what I needed, actually. I love how the light disperses around our home. The shadows are cast and the highlights that stream through the trees always blesses me.

Our maple tree is slowly turning red and soon the branches will be bare. It will be a slow journey and eventually the wind will hurry up our road bringing a chill to my walks.

The grape vines are succumbing to the end of summer and they too will soon shed their leaves and wait to be pruned next spring. It seems like the world is slowing down, resting, preparing for a long winter’s nap.

All of this speaks to me, stirring up a yearning for me somehow. With some of our trees being cleared this summer, the pathways through are woods fascinate me. One of my favorite poems is by Robert Frost. It is written about the winter and yet, each time I look into my woods I hear it in my mind.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost – 1874-1963

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Our woods call to me each time I see them. Each time I hear, ” Whose woods these are, I think I know”. I smile to myself, I know whose woods these are, they are ours. Our Lord has blessed us abundantly with this property. When we moved here, we promised ourselves and our Lord to take care of this place and have it be a place of ministry to any who visited us.

So, yes, I do have promises to keep and as every housewife knows, and miles to go before I sleep.

If Only My Legs would Move

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I love music. I love dancing, but, my feet do not move and so I stand stationary with a slight sway and sporadic hip movements. I have always longed to dance freely and I think, as a child, I did.

Somewhere a switch turned off and since then, I sway.

Each St. Patrick’s day there is a yearning deep within me to do a jig. I can feel it rising up and yet, nothing. I sway, longing to move and dreaming of someday being in Ireland. I have thought if I could get to Ireland and get in touch with my heritage, I could jig.

There was a year in our family where we celebrated many weddings. My sisters danced and had a wonderful time. I watched, aching to join in. But, my legs would not move.

In worship, I see people moving, dancing before our Lord. Again, I sway. I have actually prayed that the Lord would loosen my feet, loosen my legs and let the joy I have deep inside overflow into dance. It must be one of those prayers whose answer is Wait.

So, wait I do. I imagine when I get to heaven I will hit the gates dancing. I will be filled with such joy that I will not stop dancing. I will do a jig with my parents, I will do a dance with my child who is there, I will joyfully bounce with David, and do jazz hands with the apostles. With Jesus, I will do a waltz, allowing Him to lead me sweep across heaven, swirling and twirling. I wonder if Joshua would do a tango?

We took a dance course. It was fun, but like higher math, it did not sink into me. So, I remain a swayer yearning to explode joyfully before the Lord. Until then, I will wait and ponder on this scripture.

“Praise his name with dancing, accompanied by tambourine and harp. 4 For the Lord delights in his people;  he crowns the humble with victory.” Psalm 149:3-4 (NLT)

Memories

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“Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6 (NKJV)

Growing up, my home church was a cathedral on the hill. The spires are seen as soon as you drive into the city. For me, when I see them, I know I am home. They are a welcoming sight, they hold a lifetime of memories for me.

Today my sister posted an article and photo of the inside of the church. It has recently undergone a renovation inside. This will be the main Catholic church in town. The population has shrunk and although I grew up with four Catholic churches within the boundaries of the city, now this church will be the primary church for people. All of the churches were beautiful and it saddens me that this landmark is the only one to be used for services.

As I looked at the picture my sister posted I marveled at how it looked. Four stained glass windows were still in place above the altar. The stained glass in the church is breath-taking. The paint on the walls surrounding the windows has been restored to the beauty of when it was built in 1864. The gilding has been restored in either silver or gold, could not tell from the photo.

I remember staring at the stained glass during each service. It kept me occupied when, as a child, I was too bored to pay attention to what was going on. If we knelt, I would carry on imaginary conversations with a family of ants that didn’t exist except in my mind.

Thinking of all of this, I realized that the scripture in Proverbs came to life for me in a fresh way. My parents took me to church each week. Church was a part of my life. I attended the church school. You could say my young life was centered around the church.

As I grew, although I went in a different direction as far as churches go, I did not depart from my upbringing. I was trained up in the way I should go.

Clouds

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When I was young my sister’s and I would often lay on the ground and study the clouds. We would each see different things. The challenge was to get the others to see what you saw.

Later on, Dale and I would do the same with clouds. Looking at them and laughing how we each saw something so different.

I haven’t stopped to look at clouds in a while. Early this evening I was actually in a position to do so.

Above me, there were several different types of clouds. Suddenly I saw one cloud moving. It was if this cloud was moving in a crowd or down a road. At first I thought it looked like a circus train moving behind vehicles.

As I watched that cloud move, it occurred to me that it looked like a crown. The light shine behind it and into my mind came the song “The King is coming”.

The words echoed in my mind, The King is coming, the King is coming, I hear the trumpets sounding and now His face I see.”

The song continues and at the end it says, Praise God He is coming for me.

As I finish writing this, the evening clouds are forming and just a small patch of blue hangs in the sky. Someday I will be able to see the other side of the sky wrapped in my Savior’s arms.

One is Silver, The Other Gold

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Years ago, I wrote a post on friendships. I based it on the old Girl Scout song, Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.

In it I talked about seasons of friendships, how sometimes they wane and sometimes they are a vital part of your life.

oAs we had recently moved to the east coast after many years on the west coast, I talked about my friends from there as golden friends and I pondered if the friends newly made would move from silver to gold.

This morning was Bible Study morning. As I looked around the room, in the back of my mind played that old girl scout song. It occurred to me that I no longer put people into categories. I no longer held people at arms’ length waiting to see how the relationship would play out. Having been burned by women in the past, I held people at a distance, not wanting to reveal much of me and therefore keeping myself shielded from possible harm.

Although, in theory, this is a good safety practice, it can also isolate you. Yes, I have had women that I thought were dear and close friends for years hug me only to realize they had a hidden dagger in their hand that was used to wound me. These wounds would be in words that tore me down and made me feel less than, or they would be instances of broken trusts, or just being left to ponder what I had done.

I don’t say this to elicit pity, I am just being honest. I could spend my time thinking of those times, and like an animal with a thorn in it’s paw, I could lick it until it was raw and growl at anyone approaching me to help heal the area. What I have learned through these situations is I have grown in each instance. It does make me cautious when choosing friends and I still hold much close to me, but, these circumstances have all produced growth within me.

The Lord heals the bumps and bruises we receive emotionally. By His Holy Spirit we are transformed and made whole. The Lord will slowly cause a recovery of my spirit and shortly after that, I can pray for those individuals regardless of the pain that was caused. I know this happens because, I pray for their health, for their well-being, instead of praying they meet a mac truck head on. (C’mon, we have all been there)

Friendship is such a gift. To meet someone and to allow them to touch your life is a treasure. Women need one another. Yes, we can talk soul-mates and best friends in husbands, but women need women. We sharpen each other. We laugh. We realize that what we experience is something we all at one time have experienced. We support one another.

The Bible study this morning was filled with women who are golden to me. They reflect the beauty of the Lord, they minister freely. They support freely. They lift one another up.

I am grateful for the golden gifts of friends.

“The heartfelt counsel of a friend is as sweet as perfume and incense.” Proverbs 27:9 (NLT)

Be Quiet

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“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10 (NKJV)

Each Sunday morning our church is open for prayer before the service. Since Dale is on the worship team, and they practice before church, I naturally participate in the prayer time. It isn’t a structured prayer time, we have some of the classrooms open to use as a prayer room, or you can pray sitting in the sanctuary and listen to the practice at the same time.

I like to walk and pray. I need the movement and it keeps my mind alert. I was about to go my normal route today when I was stopped. Not by anyone, but by the voice I felt in my heart.

I felt like I was being told to sit down, and be quiet. Don’t say anything (that’s hard for me), but sit. I found a corner of one of my favorite rooms and sat still.

In the quiet a peace flowed over me. I had no great revelation. No angelic visitor. No thundering voice of God. Nothing dramatic. I sat in a chair in a corner of the room. I was still and I felt peace.

As I have mentioned before, and as anyone who knows me, it’s hard for me to be still. To just sit. I would love to say that I succeeded in being still for an hour just absorbing the quiet and peace, I would love to admit that, but I can’t. I think I sat for about 5 minutes. Those five minutes, though, exactly what I needed.

What God can accomplish in five minutes with someone who is willing to stop and listen is more than what any seminar or counselor can do in months. Sometimes we need to be told to “Be Quiet”.

In the Message the above scripture includes verses 8-10, as I read it, I knew what I needed today was to truly be quiet. Here it is,“Attention, all! See the marvels of God! He plants flowers and trees all over the earth, Bans war from pole to pole, breaks all the weapons across his knee. Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything.” Psalm 46:8-10 (MSG)

Sometimes we need to stop, not long, just long enough to be quiet before God.

Humble

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I have heard this word all my life in different connotations. He/She is very humble. They had humble beginnings. They need to be humble(d). Each means something different. Each the same word, no difference in spelling or pronunciation.

Today, I read in 2 Chronicles 12:5-7 the following, ” 5 Then Shemaiah the prophet came to Rehoboam and the leaders of Judah, who were gathered together in Jerusalem because of Shishak, and said to them, “Thus says the Lord: ‘You have forsaken Me, and therefore I also have left you in the hand of Shishak.’ ” 6 So the leaders of Israel and the king humbled themselves; and they said, “The Lord is righteous.” 7 Now when the Lord saw that they humbled themselves, the word of the Lord came to Shemaiah, saying, “They have humbled themselves; therefore I will not destroy them, but I will grant them some deliverance. My wrath shall not be poured out on Jerusalem by the hand of Shishak.” (NKJV)

Because the king humbled themselves and acknowledged the Lord, they were spared.

After reading this, I thought of 2 Chronicles 7:14, “if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (NKJV)

The verse about the Lord healing our land is a common one. People use this scripture often. I have often said that prayer in this scripture is not enough, we must turn from our wicked ways. Today, I saw it in a different light. We must humble ourselves first. Synonyms for humble include, gentle, polite, respectful, deferential, and supplicatory. Then we pray, seeking God and turning from our wicked ways. If we do these things then God will act.

I was amazed at how the term humble spoke to me today. I see it often when I read, but it does not catch my attention as it this morning.

I have spent the past few minutes finding scriptures about humility, being humble and just the word humble. Below are some of the things I have found, which I will try to absorb deep within me. Ephesians 4:2, “Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.” (NLT)

Micah 6:8, “No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” (NLT)

Colossians 3:12, “Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” (NLT)

I Peter 3:8, “Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude.” (NLT)

So, as I woke up as a grumpy bear, I will now spend the rest of the day pondering the word humble. I know there is a lesson in here for me.

The Lord’s Paintbrush

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“As long as the earth remains, there will be planting and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night.” Genesis 8:22 (NLT)

Today Dale and I headed for the hills. Actually we drove to North Carolina to pick up some apples. It’s that season, after all.

As we drove towards Hendersonville, the Blue Ridge Mountains enveloped the landscape. I love mountains. They hold peace to me. I get very calm when heading there. Today was no exception.

The closer we got to the exit the richer the colors became. God has had His paintbrush out, dabbing a bit of yellow here and a bit of red there. The colors are not peak colors yet, but nonetheless, they were beautiful.

Looking out over Lake Lure, NC

We meandered today, we took our time, enjoying the company of each other and the day.

After apples, we headed to Lake Lure for lunch. Our restaurant over looked the lake and the mountains. It was a perfect day to dine alfresco, but we ate inside as our stomachs could not wait any longer for the outside and view.

The photos do not do justice to the view, but you get the idea. A beautiful fall day, filled with apples, food, great company and the artistry of our Creator, what could be better?

My Recipe Box

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One of the first things I did after getting engaged to Dale was to visit his Mom holding a stack of index cards. I then went through her recipe box copying recipes from her.

A few months later, my sisters gave me a shower. They had a recipe box for me and it was filled with recipes from all my relatives and Dale’s relatives. Some just signed their names, some wrote little notes on the back and some added additional ideas for the recipe. It remains one of my most cherished gifts.

With the internet I now find I hardly go to my recipe box or my grange cookbook. I just go online, search for what I want to make and go from there. This evening, Dale had a men’s potluck. Today was one of those fall days where you long for the past. I woke up thinking how I would love to have spent the day in Old Town Alexandria, VA with my youngest. She’s lived in Charleston, SC for years now, but the thought of pushing a stroller and browsing through shops and sharing lunch like we did long ago, just sounded wonderful.

But, getting back to the potluck, I wanted to make something that had a history to it. I decided on homemade baked beans. I searched my recipe box (you knew it was going somewhere, right?). Inside were scraps of paper, worn notebook paper, deposit slips with recipes on the back and the usual recipe cards, many with different handwriting than mine.

The baked bean recipe is on a note size paper, the bottom a bit frayed and the sides of the paper bent in many directions. I remember when I wrote it down. I sat in the kitchen of my mother-in-law. I sat in a chair at the table and she dictated the recipe to me. It was from the woman who taught her how to cook. The recipe is close to 100 years old. When I taste them, I taste home and hear the echoes of family reunions in my mind.

After fixing the beans, I pulled out my grange cookbook. So many tried and true recipes in there for me. Today it was pumpkin cake for the guys. As I leafed through the pages of the cookbook, there were again pieces of paper thrust inside. There were notes scribbled on the pages, don’t use this temp, it will dry out. Add more sugar to this one. Don’t ever make this again. Things like that.

It was a nostalgic morning for me today. Some recipes were from our time in Japan. It was like I got them yesterday, I remember the first time I had the Korean beef and realized I hadn’t made it in years. There was a hobo sandwich recipe that my sister had sent me in a letter while we were overseas. Hobo sandwiches were made in the hospital cafeteria when she and I worked there before I was married. Several cheesecake recipes that I swore I would make often and now I just remember the person writing the recipe for me and forgot how the dessert tasted.

It was a wistful morning for me as my mind traveled back in time to people and places that once were home.

Psalm 143:5 says, “I remember the days of old. I ponder all your great works and think about what you have done.” (NLT)

I never imagined all those years ago that my life would be so full. Eating is a part of life, it is a necessary thing for our bodies, but it is also a social event for us. Memories are made around food. People bond over food. Opening that recipe box today was like opening a scrapbook. With each bit of paper, with each signature, my life’s history opened up to me.

Anxiously Waiting

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“For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ,” Philippians 3:20 (NKJV)

I love when we are expecting visitors. When my sisters and niece came to visit a few years ago, I was already watching for them minutes after they had left Charlotte, NC, which is an hour and half from our home.

When our daughters are coming in, I text them consistently asking where they are, just so I can picture in my mind how far they are in their trip. I usually want to have food ready for them when they arrive, so I finally ask them to let me know when they are a half hour away so I can make finishing touches on the food, and then I sit by a window waiting impatiently to see their car drive up our road. It’s not that I worry, no, I am just anxious to wrap my arms around them and make my mother’s heart happy.

When Dale was in the Navy and the ship was scheduled to come in, I would be one of the first ones to the dock, with the girls, waiting for my ship to come in. They would be in a battle group and the destroyers would come in together. Dale’s ship had markings on it that distinguished itself as the one I was looking for. I would watch the bay waiting to see it. Minutes passed like hours and often, since it was way before cell phones or computers we depended on a recorded message to give an approximate time of arrival. Often too, the time was delayed at the last minute and I would be stuck with two hungry children wanting to be home instead of on a windy pier.

Lately I have had the song “The King is Coming” going through my mind. Along with that oldie but goodie I have had “I’ll Fly Away” in my mind. I haven’t sung either in a very long time, but both make me so excited.

There is one arrival I am anxiously awaiting. I have been looking forward to this one since 1977. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 2 There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? 3 When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.” John 14:1-3 (NLT)

Today as I walked, I looked into the bright blue sky that was dotted by just a few clouds. It’s a glorious fall day out. I love these kind of days. The leaves are starting to turn yellow and red and enough leaves have fallen in the woods around our house that I could see a bit of the paths the deer walk.

This was a wonderful walk and I thought, the Lord could return today. We don’t know when He will arrive, don’t know the day, the hour or minute. Only our Father in Heaven knows. So, today, I realized that even for this event I am impatiently waiting. Wondering how close that trumpet will sound, how long until I can run to Jesus and throw my arms around Him making this heart of mine so very glad.