the concert of life

I counted 26 mourning doves on the wires before a few flew off.

It made me think of music, notes perched on the treble cleff, in a rather unimaginative tune.

It made me think of the well known quotation: "In the concert of life we receive no program".

It reminded me that the Maestro has the book ever before Him and that we don't need a program. We need to keep our eyes on Him and He leads note by note and moment by moment.

The year slips away and 2011 will bring challenged, enormous challenges. Yet each moment is orchestrated by the creator who has infinite love for us. Amazing!

chickadee and gold finch

Tiny creatures that live moment by moment, day by day,

never worrying about tomorrow.

mild weather

The surprisingly mild weather seems a gift. A reprieve.

The holiday season likewise a reprieve

before the whirlwind of appointments

and unknowns are plunged into.

In the meantime we sit,

quietly savoring the blessings of today.

ice

whispers

Like a whisper,

the wings whoosh in and out,

then momentarily stationary

but tail-a-tremble

and impossible to hold

this wee bird-

temporal.

inexplicable

Who can begin to understand the ways of God?

Circumstances can leave you bewildered

as life hurtles forward

and when you take a step back

it seems you gain perspective

and tensions ease.

christmas, for mom

The humble and the simple, clinging to life, in a stable, of all places.

Did His mother think..."No, not here, he can't be born here! The setting is not right, the atmosphere not proper for a king!"

In this week of christmas, I longed for voices raised in praise. Yet, when I did raise mine it was shrilly, in frustration. I wished for Martha Stewart and turned into Martha, complaining to Jesus, that sister Mary wasn't doing her share, nor was anyone else. Moms get tired and moms forget to get on their knees and listen to the child born humbly. Moms try to create atmosphere forgetting that God Himself came to a stable. Moms try to make sure everyone has gifts, forgetting that the Child had nothing. Moms go to church on Christmas and their ears don't hear the message the shepherds heard in amazement.

Some mom's hold broken children and need to feel the Christ child's love. This child holds a broken mother and slowly the love seeps into her. And finally the message sinks in.

Humble, broken, and redeemed. In the still and small voice. In the small lousy stable. In a petty cranky heart. God passes through.

Feathers in the wind, clasping for dear life, learn to let go, to trust and be blown.

And He, wee child grown into a man, didn't complain. And He, wee child grown into God calls us all to Him. To trust, to let go, and to follow....one by one until He comes a second time.

eclipse

The last time I photographed a lunar eclipse was more than 10 years ago.

Today I started at the complete eclipse and watched it till the moon was almost full again 2 hours later.

It was quiet outside, at 3:00, and the wispy clouds blew past so that the eclipse was fully visible.

The world was asleep while I was awake and outdoors. A few shooting stars spritzed out of sight and I felt pleased to be able to witness this creation of the spinning earth and moon.

The moon is almost full again, the bare legs wrapped in housecoat chilled, the heart pleased.

The Snow

It sifts from leaden sieves,

It powders all the wood,

It fills with alabaster wool

The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face

Of mountain and of plain, -

Unbroken forehead from the east

unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,

It wraps it, rail by rail,

Till it is lost in fleeces;

It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem, -

The summer's empty room,

Acres of seams where harvests were,

Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,

As ankles of a queen, -

Then still its artisans like ghosts,

Denying they have been.

Emily Dickinson

low light

all the world is sparkling

Tiny flakes sparkle on their haphazard trip from heaven to earth

and appear orb-like through my lens.

* * * * *

As they alight the miniscule orbs reappear as flakes, each of intricate and unique design.

minus 10

Summer's remnants wear white top hats and the snow is crunchy underfoot.

drizzle

Anticipated snow drips

from the sky in endless drizzle

on an above zero day.

Yet, as drops clutch tightly

on summer's remnants

dreary turns to dazzle.

I'm left wondering if there are always these elements of beauty even when life is gray and when drizzle falls. When promised mantles of white seem to be exchanged for mud tattered rags. When hearts are gray and souls are dark and hope seems to belong to a previous season.

Tales of troubles, that are completely beyond my comprehension and experience, move through my mind and I wonder if I could still see it... still see the beauty.

God promises it.

frost on window

Loveliness can be found at home

above a sink of soaking dishes

as the rising sun shines in

and children chatter at the table.

gladiolus

oops, bulbs not dug up

unlikely

They have succumbed to the new season

and hang their heads in submission

yet their colour remains vibrant.

Valiant little reminders of summer.

December 7

Sometimes there are no words to share,

just a pleasing image of a field

of lines and texture and contrast.

more snow

winter

Give us this day our daily bread;

food for nourishment,

clothes to cover us,

shelter to give us warmth

friends and family to love us

and beauty to inspire us.

That our kingdom tasks may be completed.

"All I have needed Thy hand has provided..."

forgotten

It once was the family farm of the town's triplets.

The doors are wide open in welcome

to critters,

panes once sparkling

long shattered,

the clean swept floor

foot deep in litter.

All of it crumbling with neglect.

icicle

it is snowing

God sees the little sparrow fall

it meets His tender view...

Gently snow falls here

through a thin sky

that filters the sunlight,

while sparrows sing

and it makes one feel

that all is right with this world.

Across this country

my friend from across the years

still sits bedside,

by her damaged child

and waits for her to awaken

to the harsh realities of brokenness-

where all is not right with the world.

and I pray for them

to meet His tender view.

finch

family of finches