Beauty Through My Eyes ~ The Rainy Day

"Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's 

handwriting." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Taking time for beauty makes us better; whether observing the beauty of creation, being moved by great music, seeing the world through poetry or being transported by a painting. There is joy to be found in the organic rhythm of beauty all around us. The more we open ourselves to appreciating beauty the more we will see it. Let me share with you a taste of the beautiful, I hope it will touch and enrich your heart.

The Rainy Day

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the moldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

Nothing goes with a melancholy mood like the words of my favorite poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Just the right mixture of wistful sorrow touched by hope. I'm thankful for beautiful words that give shape to emotion and thought.

Do you have a favorite poet, perhaps one you turn to when you're searching for words?

A Visit from a Squidgy Neighbor

Yesterday I tackled the weeds that had taken over my garden. Only a few herbs and marigolds remained. I was thinking of winter squash, pumpkins, lettuce, spinach, and broccoli as I set to work.

My garden had succumbed to a weed takeover 

I shoved my fingers down into dark, warm soil. Wiggled them around and felt the life. Yanking on weeds I fought and reclaimed land for planting. Pumpkins, big and orange, were filling my mind when a fat body hopped, plop, in front of me. Stifling  a little squeal, it quick became a chuckle as I leaned down to examine the fine fellow I had startled.

His bulgy, toady eyes blinked at me. Stretching out a finger I stroked his plump body painted a clever brown camouflage. He eyed me suspiciously and wiggled down into the dirt. Maybe he hoped to blend in so the lady with the big grin, standing too close, would go away.

Hip, hop, plop, blup went his squidgy, muddy feet through the garden soil. He had had enough of my curiosity. I set my jaw to liberating the rectangle of earth from invading weeds. Toad found a happy spot under a nearby rosemary bush to make himself a hole. Nestling down the sides of his big belly flopped over his back feet and he snuggled contentedly in the loam. 

Handsome fellow

Working steadily, sun beating down on my brow, crick in my back, I kept one eye on my new friend. Laughter rang out and, "Mommy!" pulling me away from my chore. Children and friend mingled. Four little pairs of hands and four sets of eyes circled up to see the plump little treasure. "Ooh, aahh, he's so cute," exclaimed four sets of voices admiring his lovely skin.

"Isn't  God clever to make such a wonderful creature?" I teach. "Yes he is." Off they scamper in every direction, like puppy's frolicking and tumbling. Back to work. As the sun gets sleepy I finish my assault on the weed invasion. A  plot of freshly turned dark soil stretches before me, fresh, ready to bear new life. A few remaining herbs stand at attention keeping watch. And my fat little friend sleeps tucked in a blanket of dirt.

The garden plot has been reclaimed

Learn the Rhythm

Push and pull, push and pull, back and forth, back and forth. The tide sucked at my feet and buried my toes as I stood at the edge of the shore with my children. The waves were strong. My footing had to be adjusted with each  pull and each push of the waves.

As I felt the rhythm pounding around me, beneath me, on me I wondered, how do I respond to the motion of life. The push and pull is constant. I wonder if I appropriately adjust my balance, leaning into the pull, stepping back with the push? Or do I respond as I always have, plowing through, headless of the changing tide?

Sometimes I go full throttle, riding with the forward motion and fighting the backward pull with all my might. I end up tired and worn out. Equally as frustrating, I pull back not knowing when to ride the fresh current, instead remaining withdrawn, missing the swell of adventure. Fighting the rhythm.

Retreat and advance, stillness and action, both are necessary in life. But I wonder if I've slowed to listen, dipping my toes in the water, long enough to learn the rhythm. God has given us clues. Our bodies, the seasons, night and day, his word, the Holy Spirit, our communities, all give us cues as to a healthy rhythm for our lives. 

The tide of life is a reality we can't afford to ignore. Loss and gain, work and rest, joy and sorrow, plenty and want, old and new, come and go, they are our teachers if we will listen, yielding ourselves to their pull. If we fight this ebb and flow of life we will end up weary, worn out from thrashing against waves that never relent. The Holy Spirit, through times of reflection and prayer, will lead us through the waves. God's word shows us how to respond. Are we listening? 

Watching my children play delightedly in the surf, their bodies rocking with the motion, I know there is joy in yielding to the tide. What waves are you fighting in your life at the moment? How can you adjust your balance to face the push and pull of your life?

Beauty Calls

Sometimes life pounds hard, zips past, and makes demands. Even if it's just the simple routine of work and dishes and bills. And sometimes, really all the time if we're listening, beauty calls out. Her voice isn't demanding though. It's gentle as a mother's, salty as an ocean breeze; full of nuance and flavor, whispering of rest, joy and healing. Beauty is a gift. God's gift, an intimate part of his created order. I wonder if enjoying his gift of beauty is a form of worship, an expression of thanks.

This Sunday, after the work and privilege of worshiping God, our family took time for the work and privilege of enjoying beauty, together. It was hot and we (okay me) snapped once or twice, but it was lovely and satisfying to be together. It's a whole other experience living near water, one that we're discovering the joys of bit by bit. These pictures were all taken in Pensacola, Florida, enjoy.

Our lunch view at The Fish House, best grits EVER!

My sassy southern belle!

I loved the artistry of this charming old church.

A peak inside.

Live oaks! Living poetry in a park.

Live oaks are prone to long limbs that break.
I love their solution to offering the trees support!

My water baby enjoying the splash of a pretty fountain.

Southern architecture delights my senses.
I love the balance and decorum of this house with it's cheery mustard walls.

Beauty makes us better. Where have you seen beauty lately? Won't you share with us how you answer beauty's call?

Mountain Retreat

What goes well with pictures from a lovely mountain retreat? The poetry of Emily Dickinson of course! My family's time at my parents mountain cabin was refreshing and sweet. I hope you find a moment of quiet repose in these images and words.

XXI

Emily Dickenson

The grass so little has to do, -

A sphere of simple green,

With only butterflies to brood,

And bees to entertain

And stir all day to pretty tunes

The breezes fetch along,

And hold the sunshine in its lap

And bow to everything;

Crowning the hill

A glimpse of home

Quiet beckons

Proudly posing blue beauty

Little fingers collecting summer time treasures

Blackberries not yet black guarded by a sentinel daisy

Walks with a friend are always the best

Summer donned her lacy gown

A creative display of grasses

Goodbye!

  And thread the dews all night, like pearls,

And make itself so fine, -

A duchess were too common

For such a noticing.

And even when it dies, to pass

In odors so divine,

As lowly spices gone to sleep,

 Or amulets of pine.

And then to dwell in sovereign barns,

And dream the days away, -

The grass so little has to do,

I wish I were the hay!

Beauty Through My Eyes

 "Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's 

handwriting." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Taking time for beauty makes us better; whether observing the beauty of creation, being moved by great music, seeing the world through poetry or being transported by a painting. There is joy to be found in the organic rhythm of beauty all around us. The more we open ourselves to appreciating beauty the more we will see it. Let me share with you a taste of the beautiful, I hope it will touch and enrich your heart.

The Return of Spring

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Now Time throws off his cloak again
Of ermined frost, and wind, and rain,
And clothes him in the embroidery
Of glittering sun and clear blue sky.

With beast and bird the forest rings,
Each in his jargon cries or sings;
And Time throws off his cloak again.
Of ermined frost, and wind, and rain.

River, and fount, and tinkling brook
Wear in their dainty livery
Drops of silver jewelry;
In new-made suit they merry look;

And Time throws off his cloak again
Of ermined frost, and wind, and rain. 

Longfellow has long been one of my favorites. Whenever I turn to him I can always count on 

being transported. In southern Alabama we're in the throws of summer but I appreciated this colorful description of earth transformed. Wherever you are this week, I hope you experience your own metamorphosis, a waking up of joy and casting off of the old!

In The Quiet

For some quirky reason my computer decided to connect to the internet tonight so I thought I'd hop on and take advantage. My plan for now is still a low profile. God is gripping my heart and I'm not willing to shake free of the quiet.

I've enjoyed the benefits of less online time and more time connecting with God's heart and my family. I'm amazed to say it, but I'm falling in love with my kids all over again. Not that I ever stopped loving them, I just find that my love is growing and developing knew facets of beauty. Perhaps it's due to praying for them more regularly.

I'm also spending more time on my novel, and I'm falling in love with it as well. How odd that I'm learning from the characters. Characters that I supposedly made up! But I am.

And what a treat, recently, to enjoy spending time here. As Max said, the waves remind us that God is mighty!

More regular and trustworthy than the waves is God's faithfulness, beating it's rhythm upon our hearts, and I'm so thankful!

I would love to known, in the quiet what does God whisper to your heart? What is he teaching you?

Beauty Through my Eyes: If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking by Emily Dickinson

 "Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting."Ralph Waldo Emerson

Taking time for beauty makes us better; whether observing the beauty of creation, being moved by great music, seeing the world through poetry or being transported by a painting. There is joy to be found in the organic rhythm of beauty all around us. The more we open ourselves to appreciating beauty the more we will see it. Let me share with you a taste of the beautiful, I hope it will touch and enrich your heart.

  If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

by Emily Dickinson

All is grace

Grace surrounds, wearing many faces. Full, round, waxing beauty. Orb of grace filling the night pushing hearts to swell, full potential, soaking in grace light. Arms stretching, waving, bending; leafy fingers sway, shiver stroked by grace. Show us how to to dance uplifted, buoyed by currents of grace. Petals swell, blossoms ripen, faces turn to grace warmed rays. Worship, trust, beauty pouring out from tiny happy face, our example of grace embracing.

 

A hurricane can't shake it or sun outshine. Crystal flowing, spilling from the Throne, life giving waters free for the taking, grace pours out. The grave hollow and black cannot deny it. Wasting sin, shackling victims, will not defeat. Curse that eats, round belly unsatisfied, decay of creation is not the final word.

All hearts have cried defeated, ashamed; hopeless of healing, stuck feet mired in life. Rising on the wings of grace, cry bends Father ear, power unleashed. Robes caught up for the run, feet flash quick the response, for you. All angels and creatures, elements and time stand back for the sons, unable to grasp what we know, intimacy. Light of our darkness, hope for the humble. Its for the messy and weak this grace, no requirements just receive, his delight to give. Discipline is grace, poverty is grace, bread is grace, hand to hold is grace, rain is grace, health restored is grace, sin exposed is grace, healed heart is grace, beauty is grace, death of self is grace, Lamb's blood is grace. All is grace, we bow.

Word Filled Wednesday ~ Lessons from a Rosebud

Matthew 6:28-30, "And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?"

Rosebud wrapped in cottonwood fluff

The light caught so beautifully on the sparkling threads wrapped around the rose petals. I couldn't help but remember the passage from Matthew that promises God's detailed attention to our lives, above even the delicate care he provides his creation. Wrapped in her gossamer cloak this little bud nudged me to live with actions that speak of a grace soaked life.

Have you been challenged recently by creation to be mindful of God's love?

Flavoring the day with a taste of poetry

The Flowers by Robert Louis Stevenson

All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames--
These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees,

But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.

I love poetry. Some of my favorite poets are Longfellow, Frost, Stevenson, Browning and certainly the old bard Shakespeare. Whose poetry do you enjoy reading?

Ohio, will you adopt me...

Though not a native, my heart wants to expound upon the charm of Ohio, won't you indulge me! The last couple of posts have been weighty, today delight. I have not always lived in, known or loved Ohio, but I do now. Words, or are they emotions, that come to mind; wholesome, apple pie, homey, lovely, welcoming, industrious, family, all American, verdant. Scoffers need not reply, nothing will dampen my enjoyment.

Early morning dew jewels.

Dogwood blooming white, pure.

Happy tulip border.

Charming! Can I come sit a while?!

Cascading pink.

All American, apple pie; with a guardian angel?!

What can I say, I laughed out loud.

One of the many reasons I love trees, majestic.

Weeping willow, do you see who's hiding in the background?

Here he is,  Great Egret.

Lovely home, decked out in her spring finery.

Bold, making a statement.

Ahhh, trees!