Monday, August 30, 2010

giving thanks





Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
— Marcel Proust

Thankful this morning for:

husband and daughter who cleaned the house when I was sick this weekend

the prayers of friends

a hint of cool breeze on this August morning

my mother's voice

the comfort of a ticking clock in a quiet room

silly family jokes

those who have gone before me and show me the way

a God who lives.



Friday, August 27, 2010

haiku my heart: blue glories




blue-glazed flowers dance,

deep cobalt bursts of glory

waltz upon the snow.


for more friday haikus, visit rebecca


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

morning star



"And we have the word of the prophets made more certain, and we would do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts."


—2 Peter 1:19.


I've been thinking about the second part of that verse. Someday, for all of us who believe, the day will dawn. A new day, a day when all death and mourning and crying and pain will have passed away. A day when Jesus says He will give us the morning star (Revelation 2:28). And He is the Morning Star (Revelation 22:16).


When we wake on that new day, the morning star will rise, not in the heavens, but in our hearts. In our hearts. I can't fully grasp that. But somehow it makes me feel like there is something really beautiful coming. Something so glorious that all of our journeys through pain or sorrow or darkness or tribulation are nothing in comparison.


The Apostle Paul says this in Romans 8:18, "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us."


What could be more glorious than the Morning Star rising in our hearts?




(joining hands with emily for imperfect prose, this thursday)



Monday, August 23, 2010

good eggs





Salt and pepper shakers cosying up to the olive oil.

It's raining again here — time for some English Breakfast tea!


still waters



He leads me beside still waters ...

He restores my soul.

— Psalm 23: 2-3


So many people I know are sailing through stormy waters right now. Some are in the midst of the storm, some are suffering its aftermath. For some, the storm never seems to abate. My heart is heavy for them all this morning, and my prayer is for still waters, for souls replenished and restored and lifted up to sail the heavy seas of life with renewed hope.


Sunday, August 22, 2010

flexibility



Sometimes I wish I was this limber ...


Thursday, August 19, 2010

haiku my heart: spherical



sky blue globe, light-veined

stars explode from hidden depths

you cry blood-red tears.


(visit the lovely Rebecca for more Friday haikus)


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

through a glass darkly




Seeing the world through the remnants of last night's thunderstorm.

It's still beautiful.


Monday, August 16, 2010

wings of the dawn



"If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

If I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there Your hand will guide me,

Your right hand will hold me fast."

Psalm 138:9-10



Friday, August 13, 2010

haiku my heart: canine bliss






There is nothing like

a heap of warm, clean, laundry

to cure what ails you.


for more "haiku my heart friday", visit Rebecca at recuerda mi corazon.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

still life with pottery






we are clay

He is potter

spinning, shaping, molding,

His hand bringing beauty from nothing

but a lump of shapeless mud.

it hurts sometimes.

but when His work is complete

there is fruit

for others to savor


joining hands with emily for
Imperfect Prose, today


Monday, August 9, 2010

youngsters




The young ibis are abundant this summer. On this day they were feeding near the adolescent moorhens, who scurried around like miniature ostriches, making it tricky to take their photograph. The ibis affected boredom. One young dandy yawned repeatedly as if to say, " I do wish you would get on with it. I've got better things to do with my time than pose for the tourists."


Friday, August 6, 2010

the good, the bad, and the ugly




A few things you may not know about me:

1. I'm Irish and Norwegian, but the Irish part usually wins out. Sometimes this is not a good thing. (Ever heard the phrase, "Irish temper?")

2. I used to play the oboe.

3. I watch scary parts in movies (when you can get me to watch a scary movie) peeking out of a slit in my fingers with my hand over my eyes. (And why do I feel this helps?)

4. I love twinkle lights.

5. My favorite drink is Twinings English Breakfast tea with milk and honey.

6. I hate the sound of people crunching popcorn and crinkling candy wrappers in the quiet moments before a movie starts. It makes me cringe. (I am not proud of this idiosyncrasy.)

7. I love summer thunderstorms.

8. I once made spaghetti pancakes for breakfast from a health food recipe. They were completely disgusting.

9. I wish I could take back every mean word I've ever uttered.

10. I love colorful scarves, the smell of lavender, Florida summer skies, dark chocolate, and indie music. Also coats and blazers. Which I need like a hole in the head (as my mother would say) in Florida.


Thursday, August 5, 2010

music maker



his fingers strum deftly

cradling fretwork

bringing forth music from the secret places

of sorrows long borne, love refined

joy running deep


his prose, his poetry, his worship

to the One

who gave the song.


(joining hands with emily, in the hush of the moon, this thursday)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

bavarian sugar cookies



This is basically going to be a post full of "borrowed" images and equally "borrowed" prose. But I think you're going to like it. I liked this soliloquy so much that I painstakingly copied every bit of it into my personal journal after watching the DVD of the movie, "Stranger Than Fiction," written by the very talented Zach Helm.

"Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies — and fortunately, when there aren't any cookies we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or a subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention ... uneaten danish, and soft-spoken secrets ... and maybe, the occasional piece of fiction.

"And we must remember that all these things — the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties which we assume only accessorize our days are in fact here for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems foolish. But I also know that it just happens to be true."

And you, dear family, dear friends, dear fellow bloggers and fellow readers, are a part of that truth. So thank you for being my Bavarian sugar cookie today.


Sunday, August 1, 2010

new perspective



i see them there, the young ibis

balanced on the slash pine

soft brown bodies black against cerulean sky

surveying their world from the heights



and i think i need this new perspective

to fly above this earthbound place

and view my world

from on high


late afternoon shadows