“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” (James 1:17)
Walking my dog through the gray fog, I spotted an oak leaf, brown and dry, standing upright upon its stem in the brittle grass, waving in the breeze of this cool November Saturday morning. Returning to our driveway, I see the friendly leaf still there, still waving, and I smile – at the leaf, at the gift of a day, at the sky over it.
More than three hours later, a walk to the mailbox found my leaf friend waiting, keeping her stance in the cool damp grass. She reminds me of a little brown Christmas tree. With points so perfectly shaped and pointing outward and upward, I was drawn over for a closer look. I bent to her and measured the height from my fingertip to eleven inches above, where she reached from the grass where she stood to her farthest point; eleven inches long. From my more critical inspection, I could see flaws in the shiny surface, and one tip wasn’t pointing as well as the others. What an interesting visitor to bring a smile. And I thought, isn’t that just life in general? It is what we make of it. To you, it’s just a leaf, no big deal. But beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I can make what I will of it. Not that wishing can change a thing, but attitude can change the effect of a thing. Moving the thermostat from dismal to grateful, changes the air, not the room.
The flaws in my little leaf made it no less impressive, important, nor influential. In fact, her flaws made her more endearing, with marks of time inflicted upon her as she came this far through life. Gloom and glitches can either change our outlook, or our outlook can prevent the tragedy of rippling effects due to disappointment and dismay altering the way we see. Grief for something lost, or something missed; anger and angst for plans that turned brown and dried up; or unrelenting regrets, to name a few, can dominate our life. Or, with God’s grace and great girlfriends, we can use the grief or ill situation to gain gratitude for all the gifts in life. God does not make bad things happen. He gives us the support and the gifts to make each day count in spite of it all.
Even the ordinary and mundane can transform a dreary day into a gift. A brown leaf that strayed into my lawn with its imperfections, became a waving friend, or a tiny tree; a day changer. It is what you make of it. Be the leaf. Or be the one who appreciates the leaf. Either way, it’s a gift.
Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise. Be thankful to Him, and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endures to all generations”.
Psalm 100: 4-5
This morning I knew my blog post would be related to Thanksgiving, but I had no real springboard; other than appreciation for all things good. As the nation prepares for Thanksgiving week, I have enjoyed seeing gratitude expressed in different ways. Janette DeWitt posted thankful notes on Facebook this month about the people in her life. How important it is to let people know you are thankful for them! Also, I was amazed by my seven-year-old great nephew’s ‘thankful writing’ of gratitude written in school. I would say his gratitude priorities are rightly placed! Lastly, I am always touched by the thank you voiced by my husband for little things I do which many would take for granted. The things we appreciate are as varied as our personalities, and today Steven Hunter mentioned in Sunday School something that may explain this, called the five love languages. So I came home and Googled it. According to author Gary Chapman, we prefer to have love shown in one or more of five categories. This in turn, influences how we show our love, unless a loved one lets us in on what they prefer. It always raises eyebrows when Steven mentions how his wife speaks his love language as she “serves him his plate”, bless her heart! Presto, springboard! Being the good natured brother he is, I know Steven won’t mind.
I was sitting next to a sweet girl the age of my children when Steven mentioned bringing a plate to your husband, or having a cup of coffee brought to you in the morning. April and I looked at each other and laughed as if to say, “like that’s gonna happen”, but for some that is their love language. I could sure go for the coffee thing myself! And to be honest, I have filled and taken a plate or two, but it was probably on some disabled occasion, or with sarcasm under my breath. (smile) So, here is the love language in our house: if I prepare it, he can walk to the table to receive it. And… And… most importantly, if he provided the table (and he did), then I am honored to prepare and serve our meals on it. What is important to us is, we meet at the table. That is our service to one another.
This also is our service to God, that we meet around His table. He has prepared tables for us to feast on the bread of life in His word (John 6:35); the table of communion where we eat the bread of remembering our Savior’s body (I Corinthians 11:24); and at the table He, as our great Shepherd, prepares for us in the face of adversity, and fills our cups to overflowing (Psalm 23). It seems the love language of our God is multifaceted; love by word, service, gifts, and quality time. Even the language of physical touch He gave, as Jesus came physically to earth to bless us with the greatest gift – Himself. These He gives and these He wants to receive, as we give gratitude, service, gifts, time, and the touch of a hug, hand shake or helping hands. In doing these for one another, we do them also to Him.
Each generation has it’s own idea of where dinner is served, and for that matter, one locale may even define ‘dinner’ differently from another. Raised in rural Kentucky, dinner was for me the noon meal, served on a kitchen table with all family members present. I am thankful for that. Supper was served in the evening in the same style, especially if dinner was lunch because family was away from home. But to not stray any farther from Thanksgiving, I’ll bring it back to the table. Whether it is an heirloom table with all of your Mama’s best dishes served in the evening; or great aunt Fuddy Duddy’s crowded table of garden treasures at noon; or grandma’s gravy on grandpa’s chrome table; or at TV trays from your favorite chairs with your favorite peeps; and whether there are two or twenty, just come to the table. Bring your smiles, your prayers, and your gratitude for being loved on in any language. Bring within your heart those who are no longer at the table. Put the phones away, unless you’re playing music for everyone (my picks are Ben Rector’s “The Thanksgiving Song”, Glen Campbell’s “Home Again” and Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World”.) As we gather in heart, or in homes, I wish you a very thankful and blessed Thanksgiving. My heart will be full as I speak my language, serving up dinner, at the table. Trisha
This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
Psalm 118:24 NKJV
With Seattle’s Best steaming from my coffee mug, and a fuzzy throw on my lap, my Yorkie and I watch the last comfortable morning move into the day, pushed by a north wind. It is November 11, Veteran’s Day, as well as the forecasted end of warm weather. We’ve enjoyed an extra helping of beauty and warmth this fall, even with the great need for moisture. Given my druthers I definitely take dry over too wet, so I’ve hung onto this fall, maybe too tightly. Some farewells, though expected, are just not welcome.
In the distance, I see trucks working to complete a highway project we had hoped never to see begun. Now we can hardly wait to see it finished. Over with already! Some endings are welcome!
One year ago, due to my sister’s wise planning, our brother and I met her for a Veteran’s Day lunch. The weather was drizzly, cool, and with his disabilities it was an effort he could’ve understandably forgone. Had he not joined us however, to honor his military service, we would not have this last good memory of brother’s time with us. Less than two months later he was gone. Some goodbyes are unexpected.
Like my brother’s old yellow wheelbarrow upended against my potting shed, I am now ready to resist cold rains (if they ever come). We’ve piddled in the lawn and gardens the last couple days; partly to prepare for winter and partly to just be in the presence of what we know must depart. Thousands of poets, nature lovers and old folk have described seasons as life cycles, and life cycles as seasons. I never grow tired of it. God’s hand of grace feeds my grateful heart season after season. Whether a daily departure of the sun’s glow, or a season-following-season farewell, nature teaches us the importance of seizing the day – to appreciate and use the time – but also to just take it in and be grateful.
One memorable moment of farewell for me was a September sunset on the beach. Here, the beach is its own kind of loud – the resounding wash-sh-sh, wash-sh-sh, wash-sh-sh of the ocean with the frequent seagull call and a distant helicopter’s clap clap clap. Voices and laughter more rowdy by day, are now subdued with sunset, and blend with the waves to form a quieter ‘white noise’, leaving you with your own thoughts. It pulls me in and I hear myself think more loudly than the din of the beach. It is more than a delightful sunset. It is the glow in my heart for the R&R with my husband and the satisfaction of enjoying something new. I think the secret of truly enjoying our time and being able to smile at “so-long”, is not planning too much; being still to allow ourselves to absorb the surroundings, being in the moment.
In our days and nights, in our seasons, and in our relationships, we tend to push so much into them, complicate them and force our expectations upon them. That is when we cannot say goodbye with ease; when we want length and fullness that were there, perhaps, but we missed it. Or, sadly, the length was not there, and for those of you, I wish you more; more length and breadth and glow.
I am not missing this autumn season. I have been ‘in the moment’ much more than in the past. In recent seasons of life I learned to choose my battles and I’ve let some go. I have silently observed loved ones, and actively cheered on others I love as well. If I’m distracted with what I think I have missed, I miss what I have. Life goes on, and someday it will go on without me, and without you. I hope my sunsets will be full enough to allow my loved ones to smile and say it was good for me to have been here. Most importantly, will I have helped another to face their farewells; to embrace their sunsets and stand strong against the harsh north winds.
Over the past two and a half years, I made four difficult drives with the sunset in my rearview mirror; two from Graves County – first, leaving my young brother in tears at a nursing home, and last, leaving from his home where he had passed away. The other two drives were from a Tennessee cemetery, first for my daddy who left suddenly November 13, 2020, and fourteen months later, for my brother. Though the goodbyes within the departures were heart wrenching, they never diminished the beauty of the sunset. In fact the sunset’s glow reflected my mood and warmed me at the same time, with hope and the knowledge that I was not alone. Whether expected or not, welcomed or not, farewells are as sure as the sunset. and sunsets offer us the glow of hope, and the beautiful promise of morning to follow. Trisha
Farewells
Goodbyes may come at sunset, some in the dead of night.
Some at break of day, and some in noon day's light.
Whether they are welcomed or whether met in pain,
A new day will be dawning, and there's sunshine after rain.
Live time in the present and embrace your given life.
For farewells surely come, whether in peace or strife.
Take courage and have hope, for love lives, and never ends -
'Tis the force that takes our endings to where new life begins.
Autumn Encouragement
New green wheat blankets the field where Spring's hope lies.
Fiery red hawthorn berries set off the deep blue sky.
Sweetly fragrant roses hanging on to the bitter end
All nod their pretty heads at the growing North wind.
One lone pink rose, a few glowing red,
And two sunny yellows will soon be put to bed.
Happily present, not concerned with tomorrow -
Like the song birds' singing - full trust without sorrow.
Warm sun on my face, wind chimes in my ear;
Dried okra pods stand waving in the air so clear.
I envy Nature's graceful stance, in the firm face of change,
amazingly coaching us, encouraging and teaching us, to do just the same.
“Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city.” (Proverbs 16:32)
How do you describe a single frantic moment or incident, where four individual forces are blended as one spinning top with two layers, each going opposite directions at once? A cyclone, a tornado? On our second day of Seaside living, my dog Auggie and I called one such moment the ‘Boston Bully’. Minding our own business as we took a doggy walk, we were taken by surprise along the sandy fenced walkway, where small garden gates gave access to the walk from each home’s lawn or porch. Suddenly, through one gate, as if thrown from a whirlwind, a black and white cyclone was out of the gate, yapping and chasing Auggie, evading his master’s “Max, Max, Max! Come back! Max!” The Boston terrier was all chase and no heeding the call; out. of. control!
Auggie wonders, “Which way home?“
At the same time, Auggie’s fight or flight kicked in and it was all flight, no fight, with Auggie running counter clockwise around me and my clockwise attempt to intercept, impeded by leash and the outer circle of Max and his master’s continual circling, which boosted Auggie’s speed to avoid being devoured. After I finally grasped my part of the spinning top, Max was snatched up by his equally surprised owner. In those few seconds, it was easy to identify two separate personalities. Though about the same size, one was bossy, aggressive and out of control; the other was meek and under control, albeit by harness and leash more than his own. I imagine Max was accustomed to bullying, or taking charge outside his master’s reach. Auggie, on the other hand was anchored, under the control of his master, in reach of safety. With nothing to prove to this wild one, Auggie’s aim was to get out of his way. As soon as he saw his master’s out-reached hands, he leapt into my arms. Meekness, they say, equals strength under control; peace seeking; the desire to do (and receive) no harm. Auggie displayed no snarling, barking, nor attitude; just “get me outta here”.
I laugh now remembering the embarrassed (if not somewhat fearful) manner of apology from the Boston bully’s owner. Scooping up his little sidekick, he kept repeating, “I’m sorry…sorry…sorry…” and with a sudden effort to see the whole situation vanish, he confidently finished, “HE’S SORRY!” The cyclone over, I could only stand with mouth gaped, no sound coming forth. I wish I could’ve said something smart, or kind, but I was literally speechless; and winded. We gratefully resumed our walk and never saw the little bully again; somehow I think we made his day.
When encountered by the world’s unleashed whirlwinds, or chased by a cyclone of fear, God promises to stand firm, an unmovable anchor for our soul. He says to be patient; to exercise self-control, and He will make the way of escape. (I Corinthians 10:13, Hebrews 6:18-19)
My next “Ocean View” will be Sunset Goodbyes. It may take more than a week because I am still learning to navigate my own emotions through some of life’s goodbyes. Then again, it may be a short and sweet goodbye to the “Ocean View” series. I hope you have enjoyed the reminiscing as well as seeing, as I do, the reminders of His character our Creator placed in nature. Until then, have a beautiful week. Trisha
Trisha's Coffee Break 