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Posted MONDAY MUSINGS
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Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Nature
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There are in nature, often what we call cruelty, things that break our hearts. These aren’t chosen by a black heart to cause pain, but instead they are just the way of survival, of replenishing the earth and natural happenstance. Fortunately, there are many more instances of beauty and complementary behavior; things that make our hearts soar. One such occurrence was mine to witness on the morning of February 1 this year.
The ground was white with a solid coat of sleet, sunshine glinting off icy limbs, and my feeders were partially occluded by ice and sleet. The Dark-eyed Juncos and House Finches were sharing time with Blue Jays, Cardinals and Song Sparrows, dining at the feeder trays, and hopping around beneath the feeders to scoop up seeds which fall from feeding activity above. As I watched them, it was as always, each man, or bird, for himself, but then the sweetest thing happened. To my surprise, I saw a little round fat Junco feed a morsel, beak to beak, to a slim red-hooded House Finch. No more than four feet from my window, they were perched atop the shepherds hook from which hung the feeders, and there was no mistaking what I was seeing. Well, nature never claimed to be boring. My research has confirmed this to be a rare bird behavior indeed.
In more normal activity, a Bluebird couple watched from outside the circle, along with the Robins. Mr. Bluebird, defending his house against invasion by the black throated gray-capped house sparrow, watched from his post atop my clothesline pole for morsels of a meal. My mealworm offering to the Bluebirds also attracts the birds of an aggressive feather, but he never minded their feeding themselves what he could have had. He just moves farther away, watching for a safe zone to dive down for his own meal.
“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Matthew 6:26 NKJV
Suddenly a convention of Robins convened at the back edge of the lawn. Mingling with a growing flock of Blackbirds, they all seemed busily concerned with whatever it was in the field that interested them. A bustling world of busyness, not unlike our own, just going about their own business; neither harming, nor helping, any others. Much too familiar for comfort, I see some of us pulling at our collar.
But the colorful sight at the feeder was too grand to take my eyes off for long.
Red, orange, black and brown; striped, solid, smooth or crowned; all aflutter, searching and eating, sharing time at window peeking; bringing life to frozen air, Nature’s love song everywhere.
Be the Junco in feeding a fellow flyer. Be the Bluebird in seeking peace.
“If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” Romans 12:18
Posted Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS
inSimply stated, notabilia means ‘things worthy of note’. I came away Saturday from our local congregation’s ladies’ retreat with several items of notabilia. First, I will say it was a privilege to be there, and by that I mean, I’m privileged with the transportation and time to go; with some great friends to accompany me; with the opportunity of getting to know more about some sisters in Christ who were very nearly strangers to me; and lastly I got to hear notabilia from others as I sat back, relaxed, benefitting from their life stories, their words and their studies.
I must insert a fair warning here. I have not been able to keep this short, though I have forced myself to omit a great number of details I would love to have shared. But I don’t want to lose you before I make my intended points.
At first I was drawn the distance of an hour and a half drive just for the chance to see again the actual place of my obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ, which was the West KY Youth Camp. It was in the swimming pool there, that I was immersed into Jesus’ body, in about 1966. I attended a total of three summers, two as a camper, with the director being the late Kenneth Hoover, and one as a junior counselor under the direction of the late Dennis and Florence Rogers. Though it was touching to see the old pavilion where my tears flowed, (or was that the off note I sang in How Great Thou Art?), it turned out not as interesting as what I found inside the building where the retreat was being held.
This large multipurpose building was a little rough around the edges, as it would be most difficult to have fine and fancy on donations alone. (Aren’t some of the biggest hearts found inside those who are a bit rough around the edges?) But it was SO accommodating! All the necessities were there: great space, comfortable chairs, tables, bathrooms, kitchen and lots of light. But, what made it work, was the people rather than the venue. Thorough planning was done, which is necessary, but it doesn’t carry itself out. The hard work carried it out, and that’s necessary, but impossible without the planning; which leaves intent, which for me, must’ve been God’s part. Being human, our intentions for being there were likely as varied as we were.
As an older member (some of these ‘ladies’ were young enough to be my grandchildren), I had to ask myself beforehand as to intent; why so far away, and why I wanted to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday. In all honesty, I even dabbled in the devil’s deceit, wondering if it was to weed out us older ladies; you know, the old stale routine. Shame on me. Oh, we were taken far away for sure – far from everyday monotony, rush, confines of the clock; to a place where we were encouraged to see through our spiritual eyes, our gifts and our places in the body of Christ. Unfortunately I was only able to attend Saturday, but what a blessing that day was.
My take away from Kelly Vaughn’s lesson on spiritual gifts (our talents or abilities) is they change. We change. So do our gifts. Changing does not render us useless. Perhaps our former abilities are those upon which to build. Maybe we do an about-face in another direction altogether. Why this hadn’t occurred to me before, I do not know. I didn’t see it. I felt that because I wasn’t doing the same things I had done like teaching littles, and then later, medical mission trips, I must be washed up; no real purpose in the work of the church. Then there I was enjoying Kelly’s excellent points about spiritual gifts, and BAM! she said things like older…changing…different…still have a place in the body. To quote her, “One’s gift, or function, can change, as life goes on”. There. Right there was my God given intent, my reason for wanting to be there. He knew, and I did not. This “seasoned” Christian needed to hear that our grace given gifts change; and we are still deemed useful, though probably in other functions. Self-centered, perhaps. But don’t pretend I am alone in this. We need to be needed. And the body, the church, has a great many needs to fill.
On the other hand, life was just settling me into the comfort of excusing myself from responsibilities. I now realize using age and lower energy levels as an excuse for sitting back, is not a reason to avoid all roles. As the scripture says (I Corinthians 12), if the whole body were hearing, where would be the sense of smell? There are women older than I and with family/health/obligation issues as well, and they are serving circles around me.
The second talk by Alisha Bohannon, still focused on finding our places in the unified body – the church – as found in Ephesians 4. There is diversity in gifts given by God, that we may function as a whole body. Alisha’s story added a sweetening, like dessert after a sumptuous meal from Kelly, reminding me that some have had to endure extreme hardship and tragedy to come to their “place”. Not that all who use their gifts must have come through great tragedy, as she pointed out. But for those who do suffer, there is the choice of whether to allow God to work through the situations to transport them into a better place, or to hold out in anger. This gave me pause; introspection, as to what circumstances in my own life had led me to opportunities or areas of service I either filled, or perhaps resisted. It was endearing to me to have these tender moments shared with us.
Our activities included artwork. Well “art” may be stretching it a bit, but it was quite enjoyable to play in paints again. It’s been a while or two since my kids, now in their 40’s, asked me to paint. I came away with a permanent record of favorite scriptures from these young women. I look forward to looking up each one to read and meditate on them.
The last item of notabilia I’ll mention is one of the stations in another activity (and all of them were valuable!) But at this one, the instructions were to write on a piece of paper what weights you are carrying. After looking at them and comparing them to a list of categories, along with scriptures related to each category, you were to give these weights and burdens to God. Symbolically, we were to then put the pieces of paper in the shredder provided. As I read what I’d written, I was a bit unsettled to realize these were in the categories of fear and doubt. Me, a seasoned Christian, having fear and doubt riding around on my already over-used back! I jotted down the verses to take home for fast reference when I am tempted to retrieve those burdens from God. In Isaiah 41:10 God tell us “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” The second one is Proverbs 3:5-6 where we read, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”
Other notable points I want to mention are as follows:
Please do not consider this to be a complete list of things worthy of notice from the retreat. Nor is it anyone’s opinion but mine. My observations and take-aways are as particular to me as my own face. I incorporated no one else’s. Before I go, I think I have come to what I found most noteworthy. No tradition should be so tightly gripped that it squelches the flames and excitement of others as they grow and change in their spiritual life. Friends, I lived through watching one congregation dwindle down to bare bones and I never want to witness that again! I cannot speak for them, but my own observation attributed the decline to resistance. Resistance to fresh ideas between generations and reluctance to change. First, and foremost, the truth in God’s word never changes. Venues, methods, action however, all can and will change to serve and carry out what He has called us to do. The scriptures are filled with examples of women who altered their styles, made new connections and did new work as their lives changed. Naomi and Ruth, Esther, Rahab, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus to note a few.
It was the first time I had attended a church function where I was the oldest, and only two others near my age. I have to say I was disappointed. My prayer is that our inspirational times together will continue to thrive as they have in the past as we remember what we learned from those gone ahead of us, who made learning and serving fun and exciting as we grew. I will try not to be so unyielding to my own changes. I will be praying for unity in the Spirit; for every sister in Christ to find her gift and cherish it; and for all of every age to “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.” Romans 12:10
I told you this would be long. If I have misrepresented anything or anyone, I encourage correction. I am sorry I had to miss Mallory Bybee’s talk Friday. Thank you Ashley Benson for your planning; Leigh Ann Grady for the delicious goodies; the men, Jacob, Matt and Scott for the work of maneuvering tables, trash detail and providing food. I no doubt have left out others who made the time of refreshing/retreating possible but you are just as appreciated as if I knew your names.
Posted Life, MONDAY MUSINGS
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You know those little corners, where perhaps the hardwood meets the carpet to the side of the threshold, or in the bathroom where hairspray drifts and dust evades the dust mop, and they stick together tighter than the suction of the vacuum…well, I do. Sitting to take off my boots, I took a good look at one such corner, and found myself remembering the days of brand new. A brand new house, no matter how humble, is something you expect to stay new, until it doesn’t. In spite of diligence to take care of it, living happens. Dents and dings, cracks and crevices seem to crawl over the surface like the evening shadows. But it doesn’t happen while we are sleeping; oh no, we are quite awake – living. Living takes its toll. Every imperfection, flaw and failure tell a beautiful story; we are living. Winning some, losing some, we get to keep trying again. Fallen soup cans dent the kitchen hardwood (probably not the wisest decision we made) and little gaps in the weatherstripping made by fur-friends, join the hole in the patio screen door where sweet little fingers missed the too small handle (what was the manufacturer thinking?). Those and more, prove life was happening.
As I stared into the corner where threshold carpet flattens into the land of sprayed down dust, I pictured my mama, down on her knees, scraping yellowed wax from the crevices of patterned linoleum. I would like to go back to that time, lift her gently by her elbow, up from the floor and into the yard for a picnic. Maybe just sit down and invite her opinion, about anything. But I believe she was clearing away what she could, of life’s ills, and right then it was old yellowed wax. Shiny floors back then meant you had paid a high price, and it wasn’t in dollars and cents. But this is about old and new, so I will get back on track now. I couldn’t imagine that house, or that woman, being new or young; any more than she could imagine my being old. Thank goodness we were too busy living to give it much thought then. As I sat today, for a moment, old enough to have earned a few minutes of meditation, the following came from that forgotten corner.
WHEN OLD WAS NEW
I remember when all of this was new.
Those corners there, the carpet too –
Fresh and clean, and the doors didn’t squeak –
I remember when all of this was new.
It had a fresh-start feel when it all was new.
I recall the paint was a different hue.
Those dents in the floor were once flawless boards,
Before the living, when it all was new.
The garage had space, the attic did too.
And the shingles stayed put when a strong wind blew.
The screen is torn and the weather stripping worn,
Yes, it looked a little different when it all was new.
Everything old was at one time new.
And we’re no different, we were too.
Ills back then were swift to mend, and
moving was easy when it all was new.
So stand on my shoulders for a better view
For I’ve been there, done that, and saw that too.
But when I’m out of gas and stall in your path,
Wait – there’ll come a day when you were more new.
Well, I’m not gonna let it make me blue,
When I feel the changes in what was new.
I’ll just wait for the call for my overhaul
And this old house will be better than new!
Until that time when the old is made new
And we each can do what the others do too,
I’ll fix what I can, lend others a hand,
And remember with fondness when it all was new. Trisha
“For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God a house not ade with hands, eternal in the heavens.” II Corinthians 5:1 NKJV
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections
inAnd Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord,”
Luke 1:46 NKJV
What delight I have in the average! The ordinary and mundane sparkle like a long ago memory hanging on the Christmas tree. Call me crazy, but I have always been comforted in a way, by the pauses I take to say to myself, “ok, this or that will turn out alright because I’m average; those rare things don’t happen to average folk”. As naive and unrealistic as it is, it has just been a thing I like to think, all my life. Interestingly, Mary the mother of Jesus, considered her lowly and ordinary existence a reason to praise God for the extraordinary! This post isn’t about Mary, but I dearly love the verse, and surrounding scripture showing us how humbly Mary magnified the Lord for her unique, one time ever, blessed experience. I believe Mary was relieved to find her ordinary self was just what God needed to work His wonder, and she did not feel pressured to be more.
Recently I have found my thoughts circling around the joy of ordinary. It’s a wonder I found my thoughts at all, but that is beside the point. The more abnormal, or out-of-the-ordinary things have become lately, the more I appreciate the mundane normal state of things. Ebb and flow, nice and easy, calm waters; yes, let me live there. I’m thinking we all put our own lives under the microscope occasionally to verify our own ills and isms. There we decide whether we are average or not. We see the tarnished tinsel, the interruptions, the rippled surfaces, but there is always, always, room to say, “wow, it could’ve been so much worse”. Or perhaps not, but I have not been in those rare life-altering situations where I really couldn’t say it. That, to me, is a comfort, and a blessing. Though I have not been so sheltered as to never know tragedy, as an average person, it was not to be the end of me.
Then there are the unusual times when ‘exciting, awesome, or amazing’ descriptors are needed for the days jazzed up with extra helpings of out-of-the-ordinary. Those are our aha moments; our fantastic experiences. We can all use more glitz and glitter – at times. But truthfully, at my age, it is quite tiring to plan and carry out those amazing times. A little bit goes a long way, and then I’m so ready for the usual and mundane. You know why we decorate so early now? It is because the few days of putting up a tree and wreaths and candles and snowmen and Santa Clauses requires a few weeks of recuperation before we can even think of taking it all back down again. I recall when our only Christmas decoration was the tree wrapped in lights, glass balls and silver icicles. It was really doodied up when Mama added an arrangement to the dining room table. Grandma and Grandpa put their little arrangement on the console television cabinet. Though it’s now dusty, dull and dinky, I still have it; a simply beautiful memory.
Surgeries, illness, utility calamities (even our appliances suffered from Covid in 2020-21) and other common, but unexpected bumps in the road are what keep us so incredibly thankful for the days of no incidence; the days of nothing to tell, nothing to sweat, nothing to tug a special plea to God on our own behalf. The best part of those times, is how much more I can focus on praying for all those around me who were not so fortunate as to have a mundane, dull day.
From an average family of five, with average incomes (eventually) and average education and abilities, I found the turbulent times bearable by the thought process I’ve explained above – that since I am average, this is all normal. Christmas would still come because I had an above average mother who made sure it did. Food would still be on the table because I was blessed with parents who had good work ethics. The wheels would roll, the lights would come on and the booboos would heal, regardless of the storms brewing. I’ve grown up now and realize none of that was average. Rather, it was so incredibly blessed that tears form as I think of how to adequately express it.
This Christmas week I am thinking of all the children who find life so hard and cold that there is no normal, no average, no peaceful thinking. No warm beds, breakfast nor hands to gently wipe their tears. Dear God, take some of my average from my life and use it to soften those little souls.
A few weeks ago the news spoke of a child who had suffered in ways unmentionable, and all I could do was sit and sob for her. I do so now even, realizing hers is not the only case in our world. I do not intend this to be a depressing post, as there are more than enough seeds in the world already for planting heartache and feeling down. I suppose what I do want to relay, is how extremely satisfied we ought to be when we have a most usual, common day. The gratitude and pleasure well up in me just to be able to look out the window at gifts of red Nandina berries and green wheat sitting dormant through the winter. As much as I want to understand depression and knowing it is very real, it is just beyond my average ability to grasp how one cannot look into God’s beautiful nature – both that of His workmanship and His person – and be lifted out of the darkness into the light of a beautiful ordinary day.
For the past several weeks, especially remembering last December and January, I have struggled with worrisome thoughts myself, but for every discouraged feeling, there have come more amazing devotionals from God’s word, encouragement from friends and family, gifts of healing and hope for better tomorrows. When you are a child of the King (Lord Jesus); when you have super hero friends and family members; or when you have weeks on end of doing the same thing, seeming to roll one into another, count yourself way above average. It’s okay to tell yourself it’s all average, so you do not live in a bubble of expectation, thus the ups and downs do not burst your bubble; but never forget how special it is, and to be on-your-knees-thankful for the ordinary.
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 NKJV
Have a blessed, ordinary, Merry Christmas! Love, Trisha
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, The unexpected
in“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.
Have a great week, Trisha
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Ocean View
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“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!
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
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Nature
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I am taking a break from “Ocean View” this week, as I used my time in preparing and enjoying our daughter’s visit for her alma mater’s homecoming. Boston Bully, the subject of my next “Ocean View” will have to wait. Being focused lately on the beach blogs has had me chomping at the bits to mention the amazing autumn colors. I join the ranks of those who’ve been seen with jaw dropped and cell phone pointed into nature. Many of us doubted the drought would allow much color, but I have been pleasantly surprised, and I’ve heard several of you say the same. I myself have been afflicted with leaf envy; the most exquisite red trees are not in my yard.
I am probably prejudiced, but I think our home town is one of the prettiest in the fall. As we shuffled through leaves to watch the homecoming parade from the end of Ninth Street, I reminisced walking that very same street decades ago. Tuesday’s rain had settled the dust and Saturday morning’s cool breeze stirred a familiar aroma in the maple leaves; one which took me back to the third grade when our neighbor delivered her daughters and me to the corner of Poplar and Ninth. We walked the leaf-covered sidewalk from there, to what was then called the Austin Building until our new elementary school building was completed. Perhaps many of those very same trees had shed the leaves I now watched my great nephews playing in after the parade.
I await October all year; which is odd in a way…so many losses to our family and our friends’ families have occurred in these autumn months. Yet, as I was saying to a dear friend recently, it is as if God presented us the great beauty of autumn to comfort in our losses, ease the discomforts of losing summer, and soften the forces of seasons He knew we would necessarily weather in this life. I cannot describe in one post all the beauty I see in October, and now, tomorrow it bids us farewell for another year. I am thankful for the few roses that have hung on to decorate our life, but soon they too will be gone. The yellow and burgundy chrysanthemums have shown like neon lights, and now begin to show their age. The weekend rain is helping trees and shrubs shed these colorful leaves, leaving them bare and resting, for a new year. It is a fitting time for homecomings; reminding me of how farewells eventually bring around welcome hello’s. Life teaches us to say “ta-ta”; and as well, to anticipate with joy, eventual homecomings. This month has just evaporated (probably the fault of the extreme drought) and all too soon winter will be upon us, but take heart…we will be that much nearer the regeneration of Spring. Then, again we will be jaw dropping and photo snapping. The comfort is that in a world of so much change, some things never do.
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Ocean View
inFifth in the Ocean View series….There is a very pleasant sound when the earth is in motion; when the waves wash ashore from the sea.
After lunch today I was glued to the patio, soaking up the sun’s warmth and the cooling breeze; transported back to – you guessed it – the beach. It has become my Sunday afternoon ritual to remember, reflect upon, and relive those special moments. Finding reminders of God, and certain lessons I gathered in the tidbits of nature only God could make, I began this series of “Ocean View” to share thoughts and experiences I’m sure we have in common, about visits to an ocean. I’m fairly certain no one who has walked in the sand, has missed the fascination of watching a perfect impression be washed one wave at a time, out to sea. It’s almost a game to guess how many waves will completely erase our footprints. Among the many parallels we can draw from those vanishing footprints, is foremost to me, the fact we are “here today and gone tomorrow” as they say.
“He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8 NKJV) This is one of my favorites; yes I do have several, but I mean this is in the top five! As I “walk humbly” with God, what kind of footprints am I making? Whose am I following?
Some impressions make a strong impact, some only a mild influence. Nevertheless, they are real. Just as a real person made real prints in the sand, our lives make real impact on those about us, impressing for good, or not. As I watched the first ripple blur the edges of my footprint, then the second wave melt the impression down to an outline, the third wash totally took the print out to sea; a million grains at once. Will any one of those grains enter the clam who would make a pearl of my impression? I’ll never know. While we don’t want to get too caught up in our own presence, or make too much of it, there is something to think about here. Actually, we may not realize fully enough the impact we make. After all, the prints were real and while we may not see them linger, their image lives in our memory; we were there, making footprints in the sand. Who might be following? To whom do our footprints lead?
Are my footprints just aimlessly meandering this way and that? Is it like trying to follow the gull’s scrambled tracks? If on the other hand, they are sure, and true, they will lead to the good shepherd Who knows every sheep by name. If my prints help someone to recognize the good shepherd’s voice, they will hear and follow Him. “When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” (John 10:4-5 NIV)
I have only the few moments of my imprint before it is washed out to sea. Will there be any impression or influence worth the effort God put into making me? (Because He has had to do a lot of work on this gal!) As we compete with flashy high-tech toys in gaining the little ones’ attention, I catch myself wondering, will the glint in my eye and the grin on my face ever be enough for them to remember something good about me? Wow, how vain that sounds, but isn’t it true? I feel I’m not the only one who wants to be remembered by her loved ones as one who loves them; as having a positive impact in their lives.
In the first couple years of public school, I encountered two very different women. One, our sitter we called Miss Frocie, and then there was my teacher. All I remember about the teacher is fear, and a broken self image. Miss Frocie however, went about her humble daily life with a song. Literally. I am taken back to her little house every time I hear “Footprints of Jesus” (by Mary B. C. Slade) She sang it, hummed it, and taught it. She had a picture of the “Last Supper” over her kitchen table. Though she was not a doting gooey-sweet sitter, she took care of us and made a terrific lemon icebox dessert I wish to this day I could duplicate! The impact of one became a part of me that if I’m honest, I never got over. The other one influenced me to love Jesus, Terri Lee dolls and lemon desserts. Footprints of Jesus…”🎼And we see where Thy footprints falling, lead us to Thee.” 🎵 He, Jesus, is the way, the truth and the life. You’ll find no better prints to follow.
So, it is true. One day they will say of me, “here today and gone tomorrow”. Will there be any marks left to point the way for those to come after me; any impact to assure friends and family of their importance to me; and will a single grain of my walk be a pearl I can return to the Father for the beyond-amazing life He has designed.
In Revelation 14:13, John was given this knowledge to impart to us: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on…that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.”
Now go walk in the sand, and marvel at the works of God’s hand. Trisha
Posted MONDAY MUSINGS, Ocean View
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Number Four in the “Ocean View” series.
I’m having fun reliving our mini trip to the ocean, reading over notes I made while there. I hope you enjoy the view from my beach chair. And I hope my husband is still speaking to me after this one😁.
We hit the road with no particular expectations; simply a prayer for safety. I sought only the sweet breath of the ocean; to be quiet, still, and to receive the gift of peace I had discovered in years past, peace I found in the solitude as I looked out over the expanse, forgetting the world at my elbows. I asked for nothing more, except to hope the trip would be good for my sidekick too. I was about to be reminded of God’s way of presenting gifts beyond our imagination, in the here and now. Before your eyebrows fuse in that position, I ask, would we pray for daily provisions if we did not believe good gifts are part of this life, as well as life in eternity? Let me unwrap the gift of just one day we received on the beach at Seaside.
“…And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters…Then God said, ‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.’…and the gathering together of the waters He called Seas. And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1: 2b, 6, 10b)
So, if I read that correctly, waters were there on the second day, before there was land on the third day. And God saw that it was good. By the fifth day the seas and heavens were so pleasing they were given life to inhabit them. (“Then God said, ‘Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the face of the firmament of the heavens.‘ ” Genesis 1:20) Inconceivable – to us, but who are we? A god who can make all creatures great and small to inhabit earth, water, and air, would have no problem at all preparing their habitation.
Did you realize (I didn’t until now) that it was the sea life and birds of the air who were first “blessed” by God! It says so in verse 22. That’s the first recorded time of God blessing His creation. And here we were, blessed, in front row seats to witness one little slice of that creation. It seemed they were showing up and showing out just for us, as if they knew our time to be there was short, Gary’s endurance was limited, and the flies would come biting tomorrow. Yes, Day one of our beach trip, Gary’s first ever, was nothing short of a gift. ON with the show…
Now I know most of you have experienced so much more, our trip pales to a ghost in comparison. We didn’t swim with the dolphins, nor go snorkeling with the undersea life, but I assure you we were extraordinarily entertained by this show rehearsed for thousands of years. From our first step into the crystal clear water with ghost crabs the size of a large hand, to the larger than life sunset, we enjoyed one new thing after another. We laughed at the tiny lightening-quick sand crabs popping in and out of the sand as the soft gray and white gulls did their best to grab them in their hide and seek game. We watched schools of small slender fish at the waters edge, like synchronized swimmers performing a routine. First this way, then reverse, that way, and back again, until they danced out of the spotlight.
As usual, there were a few jellyfish here and there, but I’d never seen one being carried in a sand pail, it’s gelatinous excess spilling over the sides of the child’s pail. One look at a youngster rubbing his leg told us the jellyfish had been a bad sport and now faced the consequences as it was carried away to be buried in the sand. Ugh.
While we didn’t swim with dolphins, they were certainly on parade! At first it was a barely recognizable image of forms leaping on the horizon. Soon another group, or the same, I have no idea, had come closer, leaping, arching, splashing to our pleasure! I squealed like a kid on Christmas morning with a coveted new toy. A third time, even nearer, the show stopping acrobats were between us and a young man on a paddle board who had gone farther out than these dolphins! Arms all along the beach were pointing out to sea and there was a congregational “whoa!” What a thrill for me to see, but even more so, that they came to play for a 70 year old who’d never even seen the Gulf before. HIs only other ocean view had been a chilly shore in Maine years ago. I had by now, begun to explain to him this day was not the usual but a gift – perfect weather, no annoyances and sea life abundant.
After a while of admiring the natural beauty, I had to remind my husband this was not the mall. People-watching would not be good for his health. With tongue in cheek, I say there were more creatures than jellyfish jiggling on the beach. After wearing a towel over his head for a few minutes, he decided to watch his feet turn red and play games with the gulls. Live and learn. After a short time of quiet I opened my eyes to find gulls gathering a bit too closely. I had cautioned him regarding these gluttonous feathered friends, but alas, I caught him with his hand in the lunch bag, pulling out pretzels to break and toss. (I know, I know. But I mean, when a man so diligently directs his vision per wife’s instruction, who’s going to scold?) One gull quickly became three or four, looking at him with expectant “don’t stop now” expressions. We laughed as each one grabbed a piece of pretzel, chop stick-style and ran toward the water just in case this land lubber wanted his treats back.
The final layer of gift wrap to reveal our pleasure of the day, came in the midst of a growing crowd off to our left. I had become quite comfortable drying in my sunny chair, so Gary eased off in the direction of the ado, ready to snap a picture of whatever the people were following. There was from my vantage point a shadowy figure slowly moving about 15 to 20 feet off shore, being followed by the crowd. I thought perhaps a large fish, or small dolphin, had floated to shore and I did not want to see a dead one. Just as I realized it was moving intentionally, it swam out of sight and the crowd dispersed. Before Gary returned, I asked our neighbors, the Markeys (from last week’s post), what had been the attraction, and to my dismay, they reported A LARGE SEA TURTLE! Fish fur! Of all the times to sit on my butt! I was happy though that Gary was privileged to see it and his camera caught just the edge of it from where he stood. My true concern was possibly this wonder of a creature had thought it to be time and place to come ashore and lay her eggs, then was frightened away. We were not graced by her presence again.
Millions of people over the years have been entertained and impressed by natural wonders we may just take for granted. But what a gift; and as any of us can truly say, “You did this all for me?! Awwww, thank you! ” I love the lyrics to “Who Shall Stand Before the King” (R. J. Stevens Music, LLC) It is taken from Psalm 24, which begins, “The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein. For He has founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the waters.” Who indeed can stand before the King; I am not worthy. But I have stood before his creation, received the gift, at peace, amazed, and grateful. Trisha