the cold has come

Seems the cold has come to stay. At least it looks like it outside. Very cloudy. Becoming colder and colder. It almost as if it is creeping into our house and hanging outside the windows. This morning a wren popped up on our deck railing and shouted her shrill chirp. It came as a surprise. She was puffed up and turning herself in all directions as she sounded , what seemed to be, her alarm. I thought I heard her say, "I'm telling you all to get ready! It's getting cold out here!" and then she was off to who -knows-where.

Wrens are kind of like that to me. They are they ones who make the most inconvenient nests, in the most remarkable places. Yet they are also the ones who like to be nosey. You can see them scratching through a flower bed or may be peeking out from under the deck. Who knows what they were doing in there. They take any old leftover fuzz they can find and place it in whatever spot they take a notion to nest in. Who hasn't opened their front door to find they have filled the wreath with a mass of twigs and down. I just love them. Guess I'm a lot like them. Not particularly neat. Always setting up shop on a whim, not always appropriately. I won't admit to being nosey, but I love a good scratching around in a flower bed. I am not however likely to try and make my home in a not-so-safe location. Old hats and shoes won 't do for me. But one thing I know, when a wren shouts out around here it's surely time to listen. I just hope I don't misunderstand her message. It's for certain, it is getting a lot colder.

The Day After

What is the meaning of this "black Friday" thing? For some reason this severly irritates me. Anybody else?

Yesterday was the US holiday that we call "Thanksgiving". I'm pretty sure everyone has someone and something to be thankful for and many know WHO to thank for it. So after sweet times with family and friends, more food than we could have imagined, children playing at our feet and babies crawling through the table legs, fragrant herbs holding their sensual ground, laughter, beautiful tables set to perfection, a tear filled Psalm read, a time of thanks for my Mom's release from the hospital just moments before, a prayer for us all and a spoken blessing by our hostess on us all for the coming year and the moment, .....how could I even begin to think of the day after that as Black Friday?

Today I sit trying to recover from so much joy. The warmed bowl of leftover dressing and smoked turkey at my right remind me of the blessing of food. The world is full of folks with less than one meal a day. The day beginning with a chat with my Mom recently having a heart scare. One of my friends losing her mother just a day before Thanksgiving...there are no guarantees of next moments life. The beauty of fellowship, family and friends filled with talk of hope and expectation. So many live fractured lives... torn apart by dissension and bitterness. Peace of life, for so many there is never peace where they live...war or no war. Coming back home to Christmas decorations lighting my way, so much illumination, yet so many with no light in their hearts. No sleep last night until 4:45, giving me lots of time to reflect on the blessings of the week. Seeing my nephew and his new bride, our new niece, sitting at our table now adorned with a wedding band on her finger. So many have not yet had this new beginning they so long for. Falling into a safe and comfortable bed to veg out watching "Miracle on 34th
Street" for the 34th time. So many know little of belief in anything...God or, well, anything other than themselves. I just cannot, for the sake of multitudinous value packed opportunities to further my giving experience, call this day Black Friday.

so happy "Day After You Count Your Blessings", and enjoy the shopping and may you too have a warm bowl of leftovers!

The Giving of Thanks

Gratitude is a strengthener. When all is not well, go for the remembrance of what is well. Many years ago, in a difficult time, I stood frozen by confusion and despair. In my heart I heard,
"Strengthen what remains." Actually I didn't understand at first but then it became clear.
When nothing else seems to be working, when no one else seems to be listening, when all that you know is that you don't know, then you remember what is unshakable in your life.

So as I consider Thanksgiving Day, I am forever thankful for God's preservation of this country. For the many lost causes that would seem to destroy us but by His hand we, as a country, have endured. for the lives given....for the lives set free... for the beauty and majesty of the natural land that is ours to call our own...for freedom and opportunity....for hands of compassion that reach out beyond our borders... for the ability to speak our mind, our beliefs...for a protective system of laws enforced by people who have sworn to protect and do so placing their own lives in harms way....for music and art and creativity encouraged...for free education and clean water....
I can go on and on.

This is a land blessed from it's beginning and we have been given an opportunity to understand that. Because I understand that, I am truly full of THANKSGIVING.

Of War and Freedom

The sounds came early and thundering. There is an ordinance against fireworks in the city of Franklin, Tennessee. Surely no one would be so brazen as to shoot off that many rounds and repeat it in semi-regular intervals. Then I heard the heavier blasts. I stood outside on Battle Ave. It was a fine fall day for playing in the finally fallen leaves of several ancient trees. The ancients that sit on property that has been part of the city for over 125 years. There as we played chase, hide and seek, wagons rides and swinging from the ancient trees, the sounds went on. Ashamedly I forgot that it was the reenactment of the battle of Franklin, as in the Civil War. The sounds went on periodically all day.



That evening as I walked outside at 9:00 the sounds came once again. Could it be that a battle could go on all day and into the night? It never occurred to me that it was possible. But then, what would I know of war? Living in Vicksburg, Mississippi and playing in the battlefields there did not have any effect on my thinking evidently. I had walked the National Military Park, stood at the foot of impressive monuments, read lists of the war dead in certain locations, but never felt the war. The blasts from artillery finally pushed me over to reality.



But beyond that, I had a dream in the early hours of the morning. I was standing in a home we had once owned. It was in the most historical part of our city. It had windows that faced a horse farm across the road that had been part of a settlement from the 1800's. I loved living there.

But in this dream, upon opening the double front doors, I found myself standing behind a family assembled in order to have a picture made. Seeing only their backs, I heard the photographer speaking to them but it seemed a somber occasion. I heard the puffing sound and saw the smoke as he held his lantern up and took their picture. I immediately shut the doors so as not to be in their way, but realized I was not actually part of this scene. Looking out of the window I saw them, dressed in dark colors and embracing several men in their midst. The men were wearing uniforms, civil war uniforms, and the women were indeed dressed in the same period, their time in history.



Then, across the lawn I watched as the men left to follow other men marching down the road. The Irish stacked stone fences stood there as they would have in the real time. Soon coming behind them was another group of soldiers carrying flags that were war torn and shabby just as the soldiers uniforms.



Soon a line of soldiers carrying fresh flags appeared but behind them rolled wagons filled with wooden caskets covered with American and Confederate flags. Finally, the last line followed, uniforms tattered, some wounded, all weary and at the end was only an American flag. The drums tapped softly all along the way.



I felt the weight of it for the first time. The battles were real and the war was painful, brutal, and changed the face of this nation and it's families. The human toll unimaginable. Later that evening I tuned in to public television and there it was. The last installment of Ken Burns', "The Civil War". I had to watch it and had to write this.



I don't know about you, but I've lived a pretty protected life. I don't have physical battle scars. I've never spent a night holding a weapon to defend myself or to go after anyone else. Some of you have. It is happening all over this world every hour of every day.



I don't want to take war as a matter of fact. I also don't really want to experience it..in any form.
But knowing that someone paid a price for me and you and for freedom and for life, I am responsible for how I treat it. Those dream people represented families changed forever by a war. A war that could have destroyed our nation forever, but it didn't.

I am so aware that so many free nations do not get to keep their freedom when their war is over.
I am so thankful that we did. We are the United States of America, one nation, under God,
indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Lord, don't ever let me take this for granted again.

Morning Breaks Golden

As the sun rises over the tree- lined field, a magnificent display takes place. For just a few precious moments a priceless treasure is on display... the sunshine on the cedars. There before my eyes shines a glow of golden light across the trunks of these old trees, pruned with all their green on top. Bringing me an opportunity to worship the One who created splendid moments like this. The Light of the world. The Beauty of His holiness. What a magnificent treasure and gone in a matter or minutes. Every morning I awake and look at the windows before rising, just to see if indeed I have not missed it. Sometimes I do.

You see, last year I heard in my heart, "If a miracle was right in front of you, you would miss it."
This as I drove across our county on a highway with tall walls of stone left marked by the blasting it takes to cut a highway out of high hills made of pure rock. At that moment, the hearing moment, I turned my head to the left and coming from far above the wall came a strong splashing waterfall. Windows rolled up, left ear deaf, I would never have even known it was gushing and causing all around it to glisten in the morning sun. Ice had thawed from deep inside and now it had it's release. What a terminal natural treasure.

A couple of days later, riding down one of my usual country roads, I look to my right and in that instant a Holstein cow was standing at the edge of the rambling stream on a familiar pasture.
Just as we passed I saw her fall over sideways into the stream. Later, returning home we saw her back up on all fours, chewing her way around the field.

This may seem like meaningless babble, but the truth is life is made up of many moments that are fleeting at best. We have missed so much. Today, as I walked with my 3 year old granddaughter, hand in hand, she looked straight ahead and said, "Marmee, you are very special to me." Without a thought I replied, "Audrey, you are very special to me, too. Do you know why we are special?"
"No."
"Because Jesus made us that way."
She nodded her little head and said, "Yes, He does."
That little, soft voice cannot always be heard by my weakened ears, but today I was listening. Given the ability to hear her say something I needed to hear. Maybe she needed to hear my reply.

What path do you tread everyday? Could it be that there are miracles all around and you've, I've, missed an opportunity to see them, hear them, experience them. Take a new look at what's around you. See with new eyes, hear with new ears, be open to laughter, delight, joy and hand holding. Don't miss the miracles.

"For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts....you will go out with joy and be lead forth in peace ; the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you and all the trees of the fields will clap their hands." Isaiah 55: 9 & 12

Morning Call

Each morning as I lay sleeping I am awakened by our Golden's long bark across the field to an unseen friend that is calling, barking from streets unknown. This is my wake-up call. You see, I don't sleep well and usually I get back in bed around 5:00 to start all over again. Trying to sleep. Wide awake at 3:10 many, many dark mornings. My precious husband, many many times, comes into the living room, finding me curled up, asleep in a big chair, afghan wrapped around like a corn dog. He wakes me up and leans over to find my glasses that have made their way to the floor. Standing me to my feet, he says, "Why don't you go get back in the bed and get a little more sleep? I'm going to make myself a little coffee." Every resleeping morning.

Resleeping is my new normal. It only takes a few minutes and I'm right back at it. He has a very hard time making himself wake me though. That's where the Golden comes in handy. He lets her out for a real romp at about 7:30, knowing that she will sound her greetings loud enough for the streets-over dog and I will awake with out any effort on any one's part, but the dog.

I've always known my husband, the Italiano, was smart, but he is also merciful. All it took was one birthday day gift of a dog to get a customized alarm clock. How great is that? A benefit I never even imagined.

I have accidently erased two posts and I am too sleepy to redo! Please forgive me. Good night!

Morning Call

Polka Dot Paper

Opening my refrigerator, a small round piece of paper floated to the floor. Picking it up I wondered why it has been posted on the door in the first place. Before tossing into the trash can I took a closer look. There in better light was a tiny, unable to be identified, drawing. I have it now at my side as I post this.

Some sweet grandchild had handed it to me and I had made a point of keeping it. They do this alot and no one enjoys it more than me. One of my grandsons, Whitaker, has learned a new thing. He says, "Momma, watch!...Dada, watch!" to his parents as he shows them something he can do. I love this time of their lives when they think anything they do is a special gift to everyone around them. They know we really love their art work, singing songs and doing little dances. They don't hesitate to come, with books in hand, and sit down with me for a read.
Such innocence.

We were all that way once. We thought that the world was a kind place to live and everyone rejoiced with you in all your achievements. Our eyes were on the beautiful and the beautiful was determined by our eyes.... not the eyes of someone else.

I don't really know about you, but I despise that our minds have been ripped apart from that. Oh, I know that growing up is living in reality, but why does it have to be so....rough. Why can't we hold onto some profound joy in just being alive? Just wondering....

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. (Italics mine..Mark 10:14-15) This pure statement alone should help us all to walk as if only someone who cares is watching. As for me, I'm thinking that even this blog God would put up on His refrigerator. He loves me that much....just like He loves you.

Ornaments

Checking with resale shops for an item and found a display counter full of some one's old Christmas ornaments, clustered together in zip lock bags. Each bag was completely different. The first had more child-like orbs with a roll of ribbon. Another had several Hallmark ones of cartoon characters. One bag had a definite appeal to people of one particular nationality. Some bags had been dropped and the most delicate of all had turned into thin shards of beautiful metallic chaos. Just looking through them gave me a sense that I could almost get the gist of their all around interest and tastes. I didn't mean to, but I knew if they had been trying for a theme or just for practicality, like those most likely not to break. Now I bet you've already begun to think of what you might see in them, too.

Now, what do my Christmas ornaments say about me? I'm guessing that first they would tell a story of a pack rat who cannot release her hold on anything that might have a shred of a good memory attached to it. That's pretty true. Then they'd show the price tags of some that were great bargins but never even unpacked or hung. Next they'd make sure the number of storage tubs alone would shame a normal person, but after opening them you'd see why. Some are pretty special but one box alone has the most important dangles in it.

It's a red striped, soft-sided box that sits alone on the shelf. In case of emergency it would be the go-to object to leave the garage. Inside of this treasure chest are the ones embedded with memories that pull me straight back to my "little girls" lives. There is one made from construction paper cut out like a tree that stands on a re purposed plastic stick. All ten finger prints are on it , all in blue, red and yellow. There is the school picture on an egg covered in paraffin that keeps disappearing from the tree after it's subject comes over to visit. There's the small tin frozen juice lid that has a star punched into it with a hammer. Then there's the collectible angels, small nativity, first Christmas wooden soldier, and the old Christmas cards pasted together with a yarn loop inside. So many more, but now you know. I've got a lot of decorations, but when it all comes down to it, there are some I can't do without.

but then, that's the deal. I love my sweet memories more than I love my stuff. I'm trying to capture them in a single box. Do I really need a box to hold them? Of course not. But it's fun to try and to allow my mind to be reminded of a few I've forgotten. Now I bet those folks who discarded all the little Christmas trinkets are just like me, those were the ones they didn't miss. Hopefully somebody else will make a memory with them someday. You really don't need a box to collect some priceless treasures.

Out of the Quiet

Out of the quiet I was wondering....where does one go when there is no place to hide? I truly needed a place to hide for a couple of days. There was not any place that I had at my disposal to run and find a hole to crawl into. Have you ever had a time like that when disappointments hang like wet denim on your head? Where there is not a thing that can put your mind at ease because there is no real purpose in sight; purpose for hiding...purpose from what you are hiding from. Just trying to make it all better was not easy. So much to wonder about, how I missed up so bad, how another friend could be so close to death, how it could be that I've flunked another test of life, how to stay in a holding pattern and learn to learn as I'm doing it, how could I have another injured body part? Big sigh. Eeyore had nothing on me.

but... in the midst...there was some joy! Babies being born in the family, pansies that restarted after days without being planted, watered, and protected. There was a phone call from a friend and a card from another, a note of encouragement from another. There was Thanksgiving recipes and decorations to unpack. There was the love of grandchildren and daughters....none knowing I needed ...well, love. Guess there was something to help me cope with life without a hole to climb into.

but...more than all that....I'd had more than a few conversations with the One who could DO something about all this hiding preoccupation. I'd been totally honest about my part pity , part loss, part fear party. I'd walked beside some still waters, sat down in some green pastures, and slowly allowed Him to restore my soul. Today I can see a little clearer, and walk and talk at the same time, carry no burdens that remain, grieve with hope and plan on making things happen where I can. He is like that. That "restores my soul" clause is as real as the nose on my face. It takes a minute to see it sometimes, especially when I'm looking so hard at myself. It might get lost in the shuffle of trying to "busy up and get over it". It sometimes is a little hard to accept if I've gotten comfortable with what is frustrating me. But He who is faithful is also patient and He'll still be here when I get over it, just longing for me to have done it sooner.

So, here's to the quiet when it's for listening to His voice and not bringing any of my own baggage with it.

"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths for His righteousness sake.
And even if I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
For You are with me .
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil.
My cup runs over.
Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and
I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever."

(from the Old Testament of the Holy Bible, Psalm 23)