Standing In The Gaps of Broken Hearts

05 Thursday Jan 2023

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I knew this week would be hard but I just didn’t dream how hard. The gaps in my broken heart haven’t healed and with the light God shines through them, there also seeps tears and doubts. I dreaded the anniversary of my little brother’s passing one year today, the fifth of January. Regrets are mean spiteful things; yet we hang onto them even though God tells us to let go and let Him heal. I worried about my little sister, my nieces and nephew, and I was concerned that I, myself, would hibernate to Kathy’s couch to sob into my grief. But life had other ideas. The sudden passing of the young and vibrant Mandi Murdock whose husband and his family have been a part of our life since, well, forever, has bolted me upright. My heart is so broken for the Murdock and Darnall families that it dried up my tears before they could fall for my own losses. Well, that is, other than the moments the radio was accidentally shifted to Spa station this morning and started playing “Before The Gates of Heaven” ( an instrumental, but wow, what a title!); then later “Last Date” was drifting off the piano keys of Kent Hewitt (I think) similar to Floyd Cramer. And that’s a whole other story I can’t get into now. So I called Janette DeWitt to check on her but instead, I just blubbered how I need not listen to the radio on edgy days and how heavy my heart was. She understood. So well. She listened. She stood in the gap where I had lost it, until God put it back. That’s what friends do.

Earlier today there was also the visitation and funeral for a lady who was the caregiver for her husband, a friend to many and seemed to always have a smile ready. She will be missed greatly by her family. Many were there to stand in the gap for Carolyn Hargrove’s loved ones and make the burden of goodbye somewhat lighter.

Tomorrow, as Kyle says his final goodbye for this life, to the other half of himself; as Luke tries to imagine life without his mother, as he so recently had to do with his big sister, I try myself to understand what we are supposed to think and do when we want so desperately to help, but cannot make sense of it. When Mandi was abruptly separated from her family, from earth ties, from lesson plans; when a young son grapples for understanding, along with grandparents who are trying to take in air that must feel stifling with palpable grief, we who know and love them want to help. We know full well words cannot explain our sorrow, nor heal. So we hover; we collectively stand in the gap – share the grief – stand even from our own homes in silent respect, kneeling in prayer, sitting in a search of God’s word for answers. That’s when it came to me; we hover, gathered together in spirit, surrounding these beautiful people to fill a gap; a gap created by life situations and one that the evil one will take advantage of if left open. Loved ones surround us, quite unlike the gap in the city’s wall of Ezekiel’s time where no man would stand in the gap, and so the city was not saved. We stand with each other, with this family, so that hopelessness cannot take over. We hold up the Holy Spirit, brought by our hearts filled with Him, to comfort and keep hope alive for better days and a future alive with hope for eternity. Filling the gaps where God is working through us to keep mourning souls from despair; so grief will not overtake them. My prayer Lord is, use us as we stand physically and in spirit surrounding the Murdock and Darnall families, knowing nothing of our own ability can get them through, but allowing Your power of hope and healing to be magnified through us as we stand in the gaps. Keep the circle of faithful friends strong, where faith, hope and love will be standing, and doubt, despair and darkness will be shut out. As You ready them to face the days ahead, though their gaps will never be filled, the love of the Lord and those standing in the gaps, will keep them safe. Amen.

Memories of Kenzie and of Mandi, and her presence with the Lord where her daughter is, will also stand in the gaps for all who knew and loved them. That’s how I see it. Love, Trisha

Happy New Year

01 Sunday Jan 2023

Posted by in Celebrating, Encouragement

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Happy New Year friends! I suppose ‘happy’ is subjective, as well as all inclusive for the many things we wish one another as we closed chapter 2022, and began a new chapter, 2023. Even as I proclaimed ‘happy new year’ to my family last night, I knew we meant so much more. It includes the momentary “let’s celebrate the auld lang sine in a festive spirit”, but from me to them, and to you, it means more fully, “bless your hearts for surviving and thriving the past year, and may you reach bravely and blessed into the abyss of yet unknown”.

Most people who enjoy writing, feel they must say something about anything new I guess. So, with a fresh cup of gingerbread coffee in hand, may I add my two cents worth of ‘happy new year’. With that, I wish I could take all your anxiety, fear and hardships, tie them in a Hefty bag and send them out with our Friday waste pick up. But then, that is God’s job, and He, with all wisdom and clarity of the big picture, is the best at it.

I have been guilty in years past, of saying I was so glad a particular year was over and welcomed a year with a new number. As if any time frame could recognize our expectation for a number on our calendar to alter a thing. No, one day just follows another, and it is up to us to be grateful for every single one of them and to give each day our best shot. I’m not real good at it, but a runner doesn’t have to win to know what she needs to do better to win, right?

As I clear away the Christmas clutter (that which I thought was so warm, cheery and bright when I put it there!), I feel my head clearing as well. Finding the floor again and parting with things I couldn’t before, is liberating. Closing and sealing each box or tote, giving it a place on some shelf, and wiping the dust away makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Is that how we feel about the worn out year? What started 12 months ago as a bright and shiny new opportunity, has lost its luster, and feels ragged and rough, ready for the dumpster. Maybe my lesson to self is not to set those expectations too high; nor to feel disappointed because some issue didn’t magically change by the stroke of midnight December 31. A new year doesn’t promise perfection. Storms will rage; illnesses persist; interest rates rise and children still fall. But praise the Lord, these are temporary, and Jesus is still Lord of all. I am so thankful I can pray to a God Who listens and will never grow tired and weary of our petitions. I praise God for wanting to be our rock, our healer, our guide back home when we stray. Time fails us because we put our trust in it, instead of the one who controls it.

My wish for you all is as James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” May you be blessed with the desire to know more fully the One Who gave us life, taught us to love, and loves to see us happy. Trisha

Admire the Tinsel – Crave the Ordinary

19 Monday Dec 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections

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And 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.

Grandma Wilkins’ arrangement

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

What You Make of It

28 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, The unexpected

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“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

Come To The Table – Happy Thanksgiving!

20 Sunday Nov 2022

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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

Sunset Farewells

14 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by in Ocean View, Poetry

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Last in Ocean View series

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.

The Boston Bully (Number 6 in Ocean View)

07 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by in 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!

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

HOCO 22

31 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by in 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.

Ninth and Main
Common Sumac
Homecoming 2022

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.

Daughter and granddoggy; my other flowers.
October roses

Footprints In The Sand

24 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Ocean View

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Fifth 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.

My friend Linda’s daughter and grandson

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

Sea Creatures – Show Time!

17 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by in 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

The edge of our sea turtle, upper left corner.