A wildly exciting event.

I know lots of people think we lead a wildly exciting life . . . and I just thought I'd take the time to share some of our excitement today.  This event is so exciting that it has captured the attention of three little boys for a couple of hours (and the occasional attention of the rest of us for the same amount of time).  Good thing we have 4 windows with good vantage points from that side of the house.

OK, get ready...and no, this is not about the chickens coming outside into the sunshine again–although their presence in the yard did add to the overall atmosphere of excitement when the following exciting event occurred.

The big brown UPS truck broke down in our driveway!

Yep, he pulled in, setting off wild warning barks from our helpful watchdog Tipper, which is exciting enough.  Small feet pounded to see who was coming to the door.  Mr. Brown delivered our very small package, which turned out NOT to be the anticipated birthday box for Lydia, but only vitamins for Dad.  Then Mr. Brown returned to his truck, gave the little boys a wave and hopped into the truck while they all watched and . . . nothing happened.   The boys watched as nothing continued to happen.  A totally dead truck!  The cheerful man got out and looked under the huge hood, but apparently could see nothing more in there than I could.  He made a phone call.  From the windows, this generated a lot of excitement and some speculation about whether Mom would have to go outside and help the man fix the truck, or perhaps give him a jump-start.  I found this idea quite amusing.  I convinced the boys to just keep watching.

It got more exciting as a second big brown UPS truck had to come and pick up the packages so that all those people checking on-line for their delivery times would not be disappointed.   Even more exciting, a supervisor so important that only part of his outfit was brown came to look under the hood personally - and then Mr. Supervisor Brown came to the door to reassure us that a tow-truck was on the way.  Oh my.  A tow truck big enough to move the big brown UPS truck.   We couldn't wait.  Well, it turns out we DID have to wait, but it was worth it because a gigantic bright red tow-truck finally arrived and did tow that big brown truck right out of the driveway.

Oh, we love Brown.  Bye-Bye Brown!

Whew!  It's a good thing we all slept through the propane delivery this morning or I don't think we could have stood it.

                                                                         ~Sara~



(Promo pic for UPS)

Hundred-year-old Tree.

Hundred-year-old Tree.

So loud as you tumble, rumble to the floor of the woods, the muffling blanket of snow doesn’t keep little hands from pressing against little ears. And little and big hearts to beat so fast as cracking, snapping, crunching, thundering proudly you fall and make your snowy bed just where the woodsman planned.

Red and Yellow and Blue coats press in close together, waiting for a nod and trusted voice to say OK, come close and see.

Brave boots make trails through powder to look at dry and fragile branches that waved a thousand green and yellow flags to sun and stars until a year or two ago. But snapping off today they make a sword for cheerful pirates standing on the grand old trunk until they leap back off again, transformed Supers flying, and then bulldozers plowing through the snow. 

A call to come and see the stump and here’s the wedge to show the less adventuresome at home.   Now try to count the rings, each year lays down a story to be told on wooden platter.  They count it once and then again with help, a century of rings are found from heartwood out to crumbling bark.

Old Tree, a patient sentry for a hundred years. A quiet place to wait and see what comes your way. What did you see?

I’ve seen your strength from upper windows where I stand safe and dry.  And always I’m amazed that trees so tall can sway together like a dance, and bow and turn to one another wildly, but end the night with quiet nods before sleeping upright unperturbed.

And with your strength, the beauty.  I don't know the names of enough colors to do justice to rain drenched leaves in Autumn when the sun comes out and everything’s a brilliant glow with spot of fire in every drop on every leaf.

Arms reaching high for forty-thousand days. Hosanna! Elohim!

The days of praise have passed, and yet you still have gifts to give;  warmth and light for many weeks to come. 

And so we shake off wonder at your untold stories, and gather you up in arms and sleds, to stack and store with care at home.

Jehovah Jireh!

                                                        ~Sara~
***
Hosanna is a cry of thanksgiving for salvation and at the same time a declaration of praise.
Elohim: Lord, Strong Creator.
Jehovah Jireh: The Lord who Provides (lit."sees" our need).

Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness;
     tremble before him, all the earth;
          yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved.
Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice,
     and let them say among the nations, “The Lord reigns!”
Let the sea roar, and all that fills it;
     let the field exult, and everything in it!
Then shall the trees of the forest sing for joy
     before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth.
Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
     for his steadfast love endures forever!
                                              ~I Chronicles 16:29b-34~

***

An unexpected sign of Spring.

Today we had a glorious, unexpected sign of Spring.

I know some of you out there are having to settle for green tulip tips appearing in your garden, a crocus pushing through the snow, or the sweet smell of fresh, moist, life-giving soil on a 50 degree day.  I heard from a friend that she had even seen some flowering tree buds in her neighborhood.  Well, none of that for us here in the rural Northern tundra. Instead, we've got . . . get ready . . .

Chickens.

That's right. Chickens. Chickens venturing outside of their coop this morning and spending the day basking in the sun on a small patch of land that appeared at the edge of the snow by their South facing door.  There was even some open water that appeared on top of the ice.

These chickens were joyful. I know that chickens don't have a reputation for a wide range of emotions, but I could tell that although they appeared to be aimlessly strutting and pecking about the mud for non-existent bugs, they were actually exuding joy from the bottom of their gizzards at their release from being, literally, cooped up all winter.

The rooster, Mr. Incredible, gave first one victorious crow and then another, which translated roughly into English means, "I have conquered Winter!"

Well, whatever their feelings on the subject–I, for one, was happy to look out the window and see them out in the yard again. I was needing some encouragement that the rule of Winter is breaking. Sure, snow is predicted for tomorrow–but the tide has turned.

The Chickens have spoken, Spring is on its way.

                                                                        ~Sara~
                                                                      

***     

So teach us to number our days

***

So Teach Us To Number Our Days was included in the Summer 2011 edition of The Old Schoolhouse ® Magazine. 
 
So Teach Us to Number Our Days was included in the Chapel column of The Old Schoolhouse ® Magazine, Summer 2011. My writing agreement stipulated that I had to remove this article from my blog until six months after publication. I'm happy to be able to share it here again with friends and family. 



                                                                              ~Sara~

My Beauty Moment.

Today I decided to have a Beauty Moment. After all, it is my birthday and I’ve been thinking big thoughts lately.

As I stood by the back yard looking out at all of that unbroken snow, I decided that after weeks of neglect, I would take some birdseed out to the feeder and enjoy a profound Moment enjoying the scene.   Yes, I could feel it. A Beauty Moment was coming.

My first problem was that I was still in PJs and socks in the late morning. But, Kevin’s huge over-the-shoe rubber boots were sitting by the back door so I slipped my feet in to rattle around in the bottom.  Next, I realized that it was a lot colder than it looked, so I called for Nat to bring me a coat–which confused him for a minute, but he brought it anyway.

So out the door I went to await my Beauty Moment. I had to stumble a bit over the ice and snow piled up on the deck that had fallen off the roof and now stands like boulders on top of an ice field. Once I had adventured across that, shuffling and stomping and slipping in the loose boots, I stood on the edge to look for the best way to wade out into the yard. Two steps out, I realized that the snow was much deeper than I thought and half crusted so that it would hold me for a few seconds before randomly plunging me down into the depths. About half way between the deck and the bird feeder, one of the boots fell off all together, stuck below the surface of the snow, and my socked foot and PJ pants came up bare and then back down into the snow up to mid- thigh in an attempt to keep some form of balance. Once again, the sense of starring in my own situation comedy had come upon me and I hoped the children were getting some amusement out of the scene while I lifted my snowy sock into the air and tried to balance on the other boot which was still resting on top of the snow…for a few more seconds…before I fell over completely into the snow.    

So I didn’t get my Beauty Moment, but I did get a big laugh at myself that I was even trying to fabricate my own beauty moment and the absurdity of the entire situation. When I came back inside, still laughing aloud and covered in snow the older kids looked up just mildly curious. Even though they’d been in the dining room, right next to the window, they’d missed the entire thing.

But, the birds did get their lunch–which I somehow managed to deliver unspilled to the birdfeeder.

A few minutes later (after thinking to ask the boys to shovel the path to the birdfeeder, and making a mental note to myself to leave my own boots by the back door) I was thinking of God’s mercy in pouring out true beauty moments into my life when I least expect them, and then humbling me at other times to remind me that even on my birthday–He will decide which gifts are best for me.

                                                               ~Sara~

Ruthie the Terrible!

,I've always been mildly opposed to the phrase "The Terrible Twos."  We usually say something like Terrific Twos because I really enjoy toddlers in all their exuberance.  But recently, I was reading that Ivan the Terrible's moniker is really a poor translation, with Mighty or Powerful or Thunderous or Awesome more likely.  So, I've been re-thinking the possibility that perhaps our newly turned 2-year-old might indeed be Ruthie the Terrible (in an Awesomely-Thunderous-and-Powerfully-Mighty sort of way), in addition to her real name of Ruth Joy.

Little people are hard to describe in a way that doesn't sound like all of the other adorable toddlers out there, so I'll tell you some stories (which may indeed end up sounding like all of the other adorable toddlers out there, but close friends and family will see her in her individual glory).

•The Three Amigos needed a Princess. She's been sensing that the three brothers immediately above her in the family are actually her royal subjects since about the day she could walk. Now with a growing proficiency in English, her dominion is nearing completion.

•When it was time for baby Ruth to learn to sleep and stay asleep in her own crib, we discovered that she has amazing persistence. Unlike our other kids who were "sleep trained" in a matter of days as young toddlers (once I decided it was time and really meant it)- she put up resistance for several weeks before suddenly deciding that Yes, Indeed, she did like naptime and bedtime and began going right to sleep with her own set of rules for How the Blanket Should Cover Her, Which Doll Likes to Sleep with Her, and Where the Water Bottle Should Be in the Bed, How Mom Should Pat Her Back, etc.   But before that, during the Weeks of Resistance, the kids and I would spy through an old fashioned key hole in our bedroom door to watch her stand and call for us over and over again, trying first one name and then another. She actually did fall asleep standing more than one time before eventually perfecting the ability to sleep propped up against the side of the crib.  We decided that if grown-up Ruth is ever lost in a snowstorm on a mountain we will never stop searching for her, because she will never, ever give up waiting for us.

•She is the only one of my children who will applaud and say "Good Job!" when I sing Jesus Loves Me to her at bedtime. Once she suddenly grabbed my chin, gave it a little shake, and told me she loved me–eye-to-eye as I had just done to her. She did this really fast, and got the inflection perfectly–even though she could barely say the words.

•She is fascinated with "lipstick" of all kinds: my dark colors, the girls pink gloss, Dad's Chapstick, brother's Blistex stick, sister's Bonnie Bell bubblegum flavor.  She manages to find these, discard the caps and apply with abandon, smashing the contents after rolling them all the way out. When she had finally trained all of us to store all lip products on the highest shelves in the house, she resorted to applying Desitin diaper ointment–carefully dabbing a bit on her upper lip before being caught white-handed.

•A fantastic mimic, she has been entertaining us daily by trying to say or sing any word, line or song (however challenging or multi-syllabic) we feed her with often hilarious results that she laughs at herself.  She will also try to ice skate, dance, or play any sport she has seen in person or on TV, often cheering for herself and calling for an audience to "Look! Look!"

•She has given our family a great reputation at church for being a devout family with her dramatic approach to prayer at Sunday School snack time - clasping her little hands together high in front of her face before bowing her head down until her head touches the table. (And no, this is not the model of our mealtime prayers at home . . . )

•She believes that anytime we have said "No" to her current activity or request (which is, of course, often!), it is merely because we have not fully grasped the situation at hand so that she tries over and over to explain to us, often until she is carried off to do whatever we have asked her to do. This was particularly amusing to us when she was depending mostly upon vowels to communicate with. Kevin used to say "Pat, I'd like to buy a consonant . . . "   Observing all of this, sister Grace said, "She seems to have a very high self-esteem!"

•This past week I entered the kitchen after a few minutes in the next room, to discover 17 individual bananas spread all over the floor leading me to believe Curious George had visited my house. These and similar episodes have often given me the sense of starring in my own situation comedy.

•For Ruthie the Resourceful, having no access to the bathroom sinks is not a problem when the dog water is available at toddler height to wash her brother's cars (or kitchen utensils, or water bottles, or apples, or shoes or . . . ).

A friend of mine once commented (when I myself had only one "easy" baby), "If you ever think you have it all figured out...have more children!" This has certainly been true for me. I'm finding myself less likely to write a "How-To" parenting book with each year that passes.

What I have been convinced of is that each child has been uniquely hand-crafted by God, fully loaded upon arrival with gifts and talents and dispositions that are perfect for their life and a great gift to their own siblings and parents. Immortal souls created in the image of God, but marred by the Fall, requiring nourishment and grace-filled nurturing and a great Savior to fulfill God's purposes in their lives to bring glory to God, enjoy Him forever, and to do good to their fellow image bearers. This is true, of course, of every person on earth, not just children, but sometimes it is easiest to see in the youngest ones among us.

Thank you Ruthie Joy for the joy you bring to us. Happy Birthday!

                                                              ~Sara~

Psalm 139:13-16

For you formed my inward parts;
     you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, 
     for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 
Wonderful are your works;
      my soul knows it very well.
 My frame was not hidden from you,
     when I was being made in secret,
            intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
     in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
     when as yet there was none of them.


Luke 18:15-17
Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

Looking from the outside in.

I love seeing our house from the outside in.

Something about standing outside of the house in the evening, looking in through the windows, puts enough of a romantic haze across the reality of lively inhabitants, the day's clutter trail, and work-to-be-done inside that it fills me with a sort of wonder that I really get to live there, in that homey place.



Angled lines where roof meets starry sky,
     Moonlight soft on weathered clapboard walls.

A longing fills the heart to belong to that place where
     hearth glow spills out of windows and open doors
          like liquid gold out into the night.

Inside…laughter, song, and talking
     overlap the sounds of kitchen chores 

         and children playing instead of getting ready for bed.

Folded arms and kindred love keep the chill at bay.

Am I homesick for my own home while standing in the yard?

A pang of joy;
     Imperfect home and those within
          satisfy this mother’s heart.

A joyful hope;
     Of promised home, with many rooms,
          to satisfy the soul eternally.

And opening the door so that gold spills out again,
I enter in.

Well, I should say usually fills me with a sense of wonder.  Sometimes I have more practical things on my mind.  Last week, when Kevin and I drove up our long dirt driveway in the evening, literally every single window was lit up on all sides of the house. It was a beautiful sight in an old farmhouse sort of way.  But, I wondered out loud if he was thinking what I was thinking . . . "So honey, when you come home after work and see the house lit up like that... are you thinking 'Wow!  I am so blessed to get to live there in that home!" Or are you pretty much thinking about the electric bill?"  We both laughed, because, of course, it's a little of both.

Some years ago, my book group read Manalive by G.K. Chesterton and that book has had a big impact on my attempts to view my life from the outside in - trying to envy myself, if you will, rather than get caught up in complaining in my heart about things that I notice far too easily from the inside out.  I'll try not to give away more than they put on the back of the book, but basically it's about a man who seeks constantly to appreciate what he already has and not grow dull to it.  In a fantastical story full of humor and both subtle irony and outrageous literalness, he woos and marries the same woman over and over again to see her with fresh eyes, he leaves his home (even abandoning his patient wife and children) so that he can come home again with appreciation for every blade of grass, he sneaks over roof tops to burgle his own home through the attic window and before entering, gazes into the home with fierce longing to possess that place, which is, in fact, his own.  There's much more to it and after the fact, during the book group discussion, I discovered that there's a whole lot in the book that suggests the Holy Spirit moving like the wind, and becoming like a little child in our appreciation of all the wonder out there (but honestly I totally missed that on my own).  What I did take away was the idea that most of us are really walking around barely aware of even our immediate surroundings, let alone the larger truths in life... "The things we see everyday are the things we never see at all."

What would it be like to be a man really ALIVE to everything?  Could we stand it?

                                                                     ~Sara~

Thankful for Things (and for all of you...)

No poetry tonight. Just tired thankfulness.

When Lydia's knee started hurting and then swelling in the fall (requiring detective work on the part of a great local doctor to sort through blood work, x-rays, and eventually two MRIs and consults with Children's Hospital to find a suspect odd and somewhat large mass, and then a gracious referral to the U and a pediatric, orthopedic surgeon/tumor specialist because he wanted us to be seen by "the best"),  I had all the concern you'd expect as we thought about Lyme disease, arthritis, infections, stress fractures and eventually the thing which was originally thought most unlikely...a potentially, possibly, probably not - but maybe... OH, there it is (!) tumor that was scary-enough-to-need-a-rush-to-surgery.

Along with the concern, we started to look around to see what the Lord was doing in our life and in Lydia. We remembered especially Grace's big accident and the surgery, and months of rehab and the nerve damage in her right hand which has turned out to be transformational in her life, so that she could not be the beautiful, mature, young woman that she is today without having gone through that big, very hard, stressful, traumatic thing. We've talked about when "big things," or disappointing things, or sad things, or scary, or surprising things come into our lives–we can trust the promises of God. Here is a good one for starters...

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:3-5) 

Or this one

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." (James 1:2-4).

So, in late December, I said to Lydia "Well, congratulations -looks like it is time for your "thing". Let's see what God is doing in your life."  Some of the other kids even joked about wanting their "thing" too.  We ended up thinking of the Madeline books... "Boo-hoo, I want my appendix out, too!" Because along with the hard parts, the "thing" person also gets a lot of Mom and Dad time, attention, love (even eating out at Don Pablos and Dairy Queen on the way home from doctor's appointments) - and if you are really lucky...crutches, a cast, or something similarly impressive.  It becomes an important part of the story of your life...and a big step towards becoming the person God has created you to be.  Lydia's comment to all of this was..."Believe me, when it's time for your thing... you won't want it!" but we already see how the Lord is using this in her life as a beautiful and maturing...thing.

Anyway - we are thankful for the good report and for a strange (most-probably, we'll-know-for-sure-on-Tuesday) benign tumor called an angiolipoma. We are thankful to live in a time and place where a golf-ball-sized tumor can be removed from a girl's knee so that she does not limp for the rest of her life.  We are thankful that the weeks or months of rehab we were expecting are not needed at all.  Such mercy.  As thankful as we are for "things" we are somehow just as thankful to put them behind us!

We are thankful for 6 months of anxiety LAST year while Lydia really thought through and dealt with her fear of mortality, which resulted in increased faith–and the amazing amount of peace she has felt through the past month.  I am thankful that she could say "Lord willing . . . " and smile when people reassured her that it would all be OK (even before we really knew it would be OK).  We know that the peace of God is a gift.

We are thankful for doctors who served us faithfully and humbly and with great skill (and with knowing how to talk to an 11-year-old girl).

We are thankful for a faith-filled couple at church who prayed with tears this past Sunday that the tumor would be less attached, easier to remove than expected, and that Lydia's knee would not be damaged in anyway even though we had been warned of that.  All of those good things did indeed happen.

We are thankful for many other people who prayed and that they also told us in person they were praying.  We are thankful for cards, calls and emails telling us they were praying.  Lydia has felt very loved and cared for.  She counted it up on the way to the hospital, and it was over a hundred people who had said they would pray.  Wow!

We are thankful for friends offering to help - including a mom of seven caring for our five middle kids all day (including lunch) so Grace and Lydia (with leg propped up) could watch big-girl movies all by themselves in the living room on Friday.  That same mom also sent delicious fresh-baked bread home for us when Kevin picked them up!  We're thankful that, amazingly enough, we had several other open offers to care for our large number of children if needed.  One even offered to come and spend the night if we needed to stay longer at the hospital.

We are thankful for Lydia's brothers and sisters who greeted her at the door after surgery with homemade cards, and a decorated get-well-soon cake and a clean house and a super clean girls' bedroom that suddenly looked like a charming Bed and Breakfast room.  And giving her the best spots on the couch And cheerfully helping her And entertaining her And volunteering cheerfully to do her chores.

We are thankful for good friends and loving family who call, and write on Facebook and email, and send e-cards and real cards and visit.  Lydia is savoring and saving all of them.

And yes, we are thankful for a sovereign God who reigns over all the days of our lives and we find these words of Jesus to be wonderful news - "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.  But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matt. 10).

May every Thing in our life glorify Him.

                                           ~Sara~

Morning sun on Winter's snow

A good thought penetrated into my sleepy head yesterday morning.

It was such a beautiful morning, with piercing blue sky and the type of icy snow that looks like glitter in the sunlight. Inside we were trying to eat breakfast without being blinded by the brightness, no one really wanting to close the shades. We ended up shading our eyes with our hands over our eggs and toast, peeking through our fingers to see each other, while enjoying the warmth of the sun through the south windows. After breakfast, 8-year-old Essie and I rested our foreheads against the freezing cold windows to feel the red glow of the sun even through our closed eyes, laughing about how the hot sun could get through that sub-zero air outside. Out of all that, I ended up with these words while alone with the laundry...

     Morning sun on Winter's snow,
          so bright it hurts the eyes ~
               hinting of Glory so radiant we need new eyes to see.

After the fact, I thought about C.S. Lewis's Voyage of the Dawn Treader, where Prince Caspian and crew are nearing The Very End of the World, strengthened by the sweet water of the sea in the Utter East.

And one by one everybody on board drank. And for a long time they were all silent. They felt almost too well and strong to bear it: and presently they began to notice another result. As I have said before, there had been too much light...the sun too large (but not too hot), the sea too bright, the air too shining. Now the light grew no less – if anything, it increased – but they could bear it. They could look straight up at the sun without blinking. They could see more light than they had ever seen before. And the deck and the sail and their own faces and bodies became brighter and brighter and every rope shone. And next morning when the sun rose, now five or six times its old size, they stared hard into it...Every day and every hour the light became more brilliant and still they could bear it. No one ate or slept and no one wanted to, but they drew buckets of dazzling water from the sea, stronger than wine and somehow wetter, more liquid, than ordinary water... And one or two of the sailors who had been oldish men when the voyage began now grew younger every day. 

So today, another bright morning, I find myself wondering which verses C.S. Lewis had absorbed to write a story which so fills us with longing for the new heaven and the new earth. Thinking to find a few verses this morning with trite and easy application, a quick concordance search of the words glory, light, bright, shining, eyes, and resurrection produced literally thousands of verses to review. That should keep me busy in my spare moments for some time to come.

                                                        ~Sara~

"Lord, open my eyes that I may behold wondrous things out of your law!" (Psalm 119:18)

Treasure from the Junk Drawer?

My mind is not well ordered.

It is crammed full of things of various quality–some useful, some broken, some forgotten, some well-loved, some sentimental, a lot of true junk . . . and occasionally, when searching through the things that are in there while pondering over the Word and the story that God is weaving into my life, I'll find a piece of treasure.

Yesterday, I found some treasure when I least expected it.

In the middle of my morning, I suddenly decided to take a walk down my long country driveway to the dirt road. As I was walking, I began by thinking about my shoes and whether I should go back for boots. No, just walk on the snow-packed drive and it would be fine. Then I was wondering why it had been so long since I had gone for a walk. My thoughts shifted to being thankful for such a quiet place to walk . . . and it really is quiet in the middle of winter with snow covering everything. Really quiet. I started thinking about seasons and how long winter is here. I thought about people, friends, and loved ones in dark seasons. So many people I know are in the middle of hard seasons, many of them close to my heart and in my prayers. And then I started thinking about the story of our lives and the Holy Spirit speaking to us through the seasons of our lives and what I had just read in Acts about the outpouring of the Spirit in those days, and I wondered if I was paying any attention at all . . . is the Holy Spirit alive and working in me? 

I thought about a recent observation of a missionary friend living in a hard part of the world–about a man there who is living a more undistracted life, steeped in Genesis 1-3, really noticing how God declares his glory in creation–and this man's ability to speak the truth of the Word in new and helpful ways from what he observes in nature. And I wondered again if I was really paying attention. 

I was out on the dirt road by now, looking up in amazement at the winter trees against the January sky. All the color seemed to have disappeared from the world, and all life with it. Suddenly things were too quiet, but I couldn't move. I just stood there looking up at the bare branches of those huge oaks, that in a warmer season make a beautiful canopy of green life against the blue sky of summer. It was hard to believe that those same dead trees could ever awaken again. My prayer was that I would be open to hearing God speak in my distracted life as I looked up at the bare branches again. I tried to think of a way to capture the moment in words, but I couldn't get the hope into my description of the bleak scene. And hope for dark seasons was welling up in me. Suddenly words formed into poetry, which is strange because I don't write poetry. But that's what popped out. Treasure for me.

January trees.

Bare limbs stark against white sky,
     white world.
Gnarled skin and bony fingers
     conceal life hidden deep within.

A frozen, brittle, aching sway when wind comes.

Silent giants. Patient. Waiting.
     Asking not . . . Why this cold, dark season?
But standing, arms held high and wide . . . hopeful.
     Reaching, reaching, reaching toward Spring.

                                               ~Sara~

*** 

“Blessed be the name of God forever and ever, to whom belong wisdom and might. He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding; he reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” Daniel 2:20-22