In Honor of DST

In honor of Daylight Savings Time, my feet not being cold because of this beautiful spring weather, and the headache I have for the same reason (spring = pollen in Georgia), tonight I leave you with the beauty that lifted my heart today.

img_1735

The tea olive just outside the door.  Heaven SCENT.  I do hope heaven smells just like this.  Makes me think of my Daddy who loved them too, every single time.  

img_1736

This time of year I start driving by peach orchards…..that aren’t on the way home.  They always seem to feel like home.  

img_1737

Look at her, all dolled up and ready to go!  I love a pruned peach tree more than a lot of things in this world.  She takes me back.  My favorite vision in spring…..

So my black vehicle might be green from the coat of pollen on it (and no, I’m not going to wash it off, it’ll just be green again tomorrow–my plan is to wait it out) and my head might hurt from allergies, but I was able to get a walk in with warm toes and sunshine AFTER we got home from our day to dailies this evening.  It’s finally that time of year that I don’t feel quite so rushed because the darkness doesn’t seem to be peeking from around the corner, ready to pounce just when I get going good.

May nature’s beauty reach out and grab you in a joyful dance today!

Love to all.

Always Heading East

Tonight after the pizza supper that Cooter requested special for his 9th birthday (I can’t even with this whole 9 year old thing y’all, so that is why we are NOT talking about it right now), we were headed home.  The sun was setting, and as we do from everywhere we are at any and all given times, we were headed east to go home.

Apparently we never travel east of our home because we always seem to head into the darkness this time of night.

The Fella had to stop for something, so he pulled off the main road into the store parking lot.  I sat, peering into the darkness feeling, well frankly, sad.  Tired.  Listless.  It’s dark.  I can’t see.  There’s so much I can’t see in the unknown ahead.

To get out of the parking lot, my Fella had to turn the car around to the west before getting back on the main road and heading east.  When I looked up from my gloomy thoughts, what met my eyes was breathtaking.

One of the most beautiful sunset paintings I’ve ever seen.  I can never get enough of those, but this one–this one was truly spectacular.

We started back on the road to home with the painting behind me.  I turned in my seat to see it just one more time.  When finally I had to turn back and face the darkness to the east, I was different.  I felt different.  I was better.

Sometimes we can feel overwhelmed by the darkness, by what’s ahead.  Maybe when we get to that point, we need to take a moment to turn all the way around and see what else is out there. What is directly in front of us is rarely all there is.

I believe in the power of pulling over.  Of taking a breather.  Or a shower.  Or a nap.

You know.  Whatever it takes to change perspectives.  To lighten the load.

Love to all.

IMG_6831

A Masterpiece in Gold

Today I had an appointment in Macon, and I found myself driving down one of the old streets there a little ways from the downtown area.  As I looked down the street towards my destination, the sight before me took my breath away.

Ginkgo trees in all their golden glory lined both sides of the street.

Beautiful.

I remember the words my pastorfriend quoted from “The Color Purple” about how God must feel if we go by a field of purple flowers and don’t take notice.  If that is how our Creator feels about a purple field, I can’t imagine it’s any less important for us to notice that beautiful gold that fairly glows in the afternoon sun.

I’m in love.  As I drove on, I thought about my oldest asking me in the past week what I want for Christmas.

I think it might just be a ginkgo.  Or ten.

Well, that and a weeping willow or two.  I have my Bradford pear (that has yet to catch afire with the flaming red and golden leaves–seems late to me this year for some reason), and I have my heavenly smelling tea olives.  I even have a couple of magnolias.  So yes, I think a ginkgo would be just the perfect addition.

As I sat at my appointment thinking about all those lovely trees whose leaves were dropping to make a golden carpet beneath, I remembered seeing just such a sight at my home away from home–Wesleyan College, where I made such wonderful memories and where my oldest calls home for now.  They also had them in Japan which we enjoyed seeing while we lived there.  The ginkgo is another tree whose story is interwoven with mine.

Our roots are bound together now.  And I love that.

What tree or plant shares in your story?  Which ones bring you joy just at the sight of them?

Loving this time of year when, quite frankly, so many of the trees are showing off before crawling into bed for the winter.

Love to all.

Showa_Kinen_Koen_golden_gingko

The gingko trees at Show Park in Japan–a place that helped ease my homesickness while we lived there. I didn’t get a picture today because I was taking it all in and didn’t think of it until too late. Japanexperterna (CCBYSA) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Living Art and the Day We Had

Today was a day of all the things.

IMG_0185

It actually started last night.  As I sat on the bleachers watching my oldest swim for the last night before the bubble goes up over the pool for the winter, I got a notification on my phone.  The Auvi-Q, our epinephrine auto-injector that could potentially save the life of my child with food allergies, was recalled.  At first only certain lot numbers, and then the word came down–ALL.

For a few moments, I could not breathe.  The leftovers from her meal that she’d barely touched at the restaurant before swim practice were waiting for her after practice.  Everything there was supposedly safe, but now–without our safety net–I was suddenly ill at the thought of letting her eat it.

I called the pharmacy and found out they were not even aware yet.  But the pharmacist was compassionate and took time to look it up on-line and even offered to call our allergist for a prescription for the Epi-pen first thing this morning.

It was the best we could do.

And so it had to be.

Last night was filled with anxiety, fearing all the what ifs, without that safety net.  All of the food in my house–and I am a very careful shopper–suddenly seemed risky.

But we finally got everyone settled and in the bed, and this morning was a new day.  I called the allergist myself and was assured they were on it.  I started to breathe a little easier.

Then our Princess said she didn’t feel very good.  Sure enough, she has run a low-grade fever most of the day.  She just had some sort of weird allergy-related weekend virus two weeks ago.  And here it is, it would seem, back for another visit.

By midday, Cooter was also down for the count with a bad headache that caused stomach problems or vice versa.  In the middle of it, it hardly mattered.  I can get debilitating headaches from time to time, and it broke my heart to see my baby hurting like that.  He spent most of the hours between 3 and 8 sleeping it off, bless him.

In the midst of all of this, our Princess’ best bud, a sweet girl who moved into the neighborhood over the summer, came over with her big blue ball (they all love throwing it around in the cul-de-sac) to see if her friend could play.  When I told her they were both sick, sympathy and compassion was evident in her eyes.  When Miss Sophie heard her voice, she came running to the front door.  Our Princess’ friend J is the pet whisperer.  She promptly sat down on the front porch and started loving on Sophie, who ate it up.  I guess she and her needs had taken a backseat to my sick babies today, bless her.  As J told me about her day and about her favorite dogs of years past, I took a moment and sat down on the floor just inside my front door and listened.  As I sat there looking at her sweet face, this child whom I prayed for–a good friend for our Princess, I felt as though it was a sacred moment.  This young girl was sharing her heart with me.  The joy of having a pet who understood her and the pain of losing her in recent years.  Sweet and funny stories.

I wanted to sit there forever.  That she found me worthy to hear her stories–that put a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye.  She is such a love.  She is a beautiful soul, and I’m thankful for her in our lives.

Not long after she left, Cooter’s buddy came by with the oyster crackers his sweet Mama had offered to pick up at the store for us.  They are the one thing Cooter will eat after having a stomach bug, and we were all out.  As I took the bag from him, telling him thank you, I felt something cold.  I looked up, puzzled.  “Oh, there’s chicken salad from Shane’s in there,” he said.  He shrugged and smiled that precious smile of his.  BLESS.  Being thought of and cared for like that–well, it took my breath away, and when it returned, I breathed out much of the weight of the day.  Chicken salad.  Being thought of.  Thank you.

IMG_0188

Later this evening, I was closing up the house.  I had opened up the windows, hoping that the fresh air would help get rid of whatever this “mess” is that keeps getting ahold of my young’uns.  Enough is enough.  It was a lovely day to have the windows open too.  As I went to close the window in my bedroom, I looked out.  The sky was the most delicate blend of pink and yellow and the trees in the back were just gorgeous.  I stopped and actually breathed in and out and gave thanks for the painting before my eyes.  Living art–our Creator is good at that.

Tonight I am thankful for replacement epi-pens and the ability to get them quickly. Not all of the allergy Mamas are so fortunate, and I hold them in my heart and in the Light tonight as I am able to rest a little easier than I did last night.  I give thanks for the most wonderful neighbors that anyone could ask for–surprise visits on the front porch in the quiet of the afternoon and surprise gifts of chicken salad, never mind the text messages checking on us and grocery store acquisitions that make our life easier–so lucky to be doing life with these good folks.  Most of all I give thanks for living art–the trees at the beginning of fall, a sunset through the woods, the look of compassion in a young girl’s eyes, and the shrug and grin of a gift offering young fella.  All beautiful, all life-giving.  I am thankful.  And humbled.  So much more than I deserve.

Grace.  I’m thankful for grace.

Love and grace to all.

of what doesn’t make sense

we have this need, don’t we,
to make sense of what doesn’t

to figure out the why
sometimes becomes very important,
almost urgent

I wonder if we get that from our mothers
or our fathers
or from the One who created us

though of course I feel fairly
certain there are times when
even the One who painted the sky
that brilliant cerulean hue
and strung the stars across the darkened dome
cannot figure out why the things that happen
happen as they do

and in those moments I feel God squatting down
beside me
helping me pick up the pieces left over
after the storm has blown through
gently, quietly there
patiently handing me what is left
to begin again

it reminds me how, when the Lego habitat vehicle creature
has been demolished by a careless hand or movement,
I wipe the tears and
kneel down beside the one whose heart is broken,
picking up the pieces one by one and handing them back
to my little one
whispering encouraging words,
in the hopes that soon, in his own time,
he will find the strength, desire, and courage
to try to build it again,
maybe even better this time

once his heart begins healing
and he no longer seeks to make sense
of the chaos that ensued

and instead
bit by bit
moves on, beyond,
leaving some questions asked
unanswered
and yet, somehow, in the presence
of rainbows and the One who lined up
those colors
just so
finds peace
and rests in that
one more night

IMG_9578