new year's eve 2011

2011 Screeches to a halt, with heaving stomachs and lingering fatigue,a dying dog, a young lad with stitches, and a dripping dismal rain. A year coloured by the loss of mom.

We cling, we melt, we hang, we drop.

We never disappear.

Creatures shaped by the divine.

As the year finishes, I can't help but think that we have been immensely blessed.

God has been good. God is always good.

Happy New Year to family and friends, Happy Forever to Mom.

christmas

december 22nd

Clear crisp morning with a silver sliver of moon.

december 21st

The shortest day of all 365 is here, and it is grey and dark and wet.

Last year on the longest night we took mom and dad to listen to Handel's Messiah.

It will forever be etched in my mind

as the beginning-of-the-end for mom.

The last outing, the last visit here.

The first inkling that something was very wrong.

Tomorrow the days will start to lengthen, and skies will clear as they always do.

*

I struggle with my reactions to losing mom.

The grief is still unfamiliar to me.

More tears were shed while mom was sick than after she died.

Her chair is empty, her voice quiet.

Her broken hands don't rub my cheek

and my little ones don't snuggle on her lap.

Some of the color goes out of the world when a loved one is gone.

***

The end-of-the-beginning is over for mom and she is safe in forever.

*****

december 20th

She gives me teacups to drink from, and silver spoons to stir with.

I place them on the tablecloth

hooked stitch by endless stitch just for me.

She thinks of me and prays for me.

Every day.

I drink deeply of this friendship, let it stir my heart.

A give and take of time and words and prayer.

dec 16th

Tiny orbs drenched in blue.

Miniature world full of glory.

Ice from earlier this week drips to earth

while little people and bigger people step outdoors

to inhale sunlight.

It is a balmy 12 degrees outdoors.

december 9th

december 8th

december 7th

november's end

Snow is dabbled on the kitchen window and my view is abstracted.

Trees now vague shapes and green grass now white.

November blows past.

Vision outward as bespeckled as vision inward can be.

planners and thinkers

Thinking about our God and carefully planning out our walk doesn't guarantee that our paths lead to the foot of the cross. And I wonder how aware we are of the magnitude of Grace. Does the shadow of the cross stretch across our lives while redeeming light illuminates the darkened valleys? We think about it, we set up a game plan for ourselves and our families. We get frustrated when we are ineffective and feel unheard. Clay pots that wish to be the potter.

Believe and trust.

It is finished.

flurries

Suddenly the gardens were transformed into a canvas of bold brush strokes

and it seemed that we had simply leapt into a new season.

The children scurried about shouting for mittens

as they hurried out the door.

I'm left wondering what happened to yesterdays balmy temperatures.

little lads

Brothers, these boys -

little lads with mutual loves in their young lives,

kin connected by genes and games,

men in the making

with more than just memories in common.

away

The sounds are of the wind in the larch trees

and geese flying overhead or a thumping of a hidden grouse

and the scent in the air is of fallen leaves

and wood smoke and a promise of winter

and all around the trees stand golden in the sunshine

until night comes and a million holes prick the blanketing darkness

and little voices talk on about their day

and cousins' voices talk quietly of many things.

Away....

browns

Slowly the world turns into what seems to be plain and simple brown.

Light shortens and darkness lengthens

and altogether too little time is spent outdoors.

And yet, even the dull can be delicate lace,

and brings honour to the Creator.

Quickly days pass and life can seem too dull and simply mundane,

Joy dulls and dreary overshadows

and altogether too little time is spent in thankfulness,

And yet, even among the brown,

an intricate plan is woven by a loving Father.

To see beauty in the brown days too....

contrasts

more change

Like leaves being blown from reluctant limbs

the starlings too move across an autumn sky.

Years, days, and moments set adrift

in a never ending current of change.

It is the first time mom hasn't been part of my birthday,

the first time I didn't hear those stories for the umpteenth time.

Boy, I miss her today.

change

Golden maple leaves float thick in the air,

exhausted by time and prompted by rain and wind.

It is time for change, for a new season of life.

indian summer

It catches us by surprise, the loveliness of Indian Summer. Days of mid twenties and bright sunshine. Grass is still summer green but trees stand dressed in autumn finery. It draws us from our homes to roam the country side and ooh and aah over gold and orange and crimson.

And each day we wonder, "Is this the last of it, the end of a summer gone too quickly?"

thanksgiving

.....God has dipped his paint in His palette of colors and splashed the hills and woods and fields with robes of saffron and crimson and gold and yellow and brown and scarlet.

The maples and chestnuts and oaks vie with one another in autumnal beauty. The sumac dazzles the eye with brilliant scarlet.....

In this amazing garden of beauty our lips involuntarily sing forth the praises of the psalmist: "Bless Jehovah, o my soul; and all that is within my, bless His holy name."

Charles Kingsley

repetition of shape and colour

the light behind the finch echoes his shape

the curve of the body echoes the curve of the sunflower,

the colours, as well, match beautifully.

on breezes

a miracle, this silk to transport a tiny seed,

a miracle, this silk to transport a tiny life.

who can not marvel at creation?

who can not stand in awe of the Creator?

rural ontario

Some stand straight and some tilt,

hand hewn in earlier days.

Some people aim to pull them down

and I photograph them

before they are gone.

monarch

flowers

september

cross across veins

new life

The wind is decidedly colder and the leaves have started to rustle. The garden plants are looking tired, as if all their remaining energy is being used up to prepare for the next generation. Seeds are dropping onto the soil, popping out of their capsules. Burrs are stuck to the dogs' fur and to our pantlegs. Sometimes beautifully engineered parachutes float by with a tiny seed at their core. A massive attempt to recreate in the face of decay. Autumn is just around the corner and time is drawing short.

And so it shall be, "until He comes".

why I like Sunflowers

The cardinal was feeding at the sunflowers in the wildflower garden gone wild but was much too shy to be photographed. The less colorful, but more sociable chickadee was happy to oblige me.

He who paints the sky..

For a few minutes tonight the sky was filled with splendid brush strokes of colour

and the moon hung bright in its southern orbit.

Childlike, I wonder, "Are you up there somewhere mom?"

I dream about her at night, being "whole" and healthy

and I wonder, in my dreams, if her illness from 4 years ago was all a bad dream,

but wake up to the truth-

The Truth beyond any dreams.

restless

When the music is right and the day is quiet contentment settles quietly and drapes around restless shoulders.

There are times when restlessness stirs the spirit and feet want to dip into a maritime ocean and dance to celtic fiddles. When feet wish to be clad in hiking boots and struggle up mountain paths where spirits can soar with the beauty of it all. When feet want to wander northern woods where hearts can listen to the wind in the conifers. When the world is just too big and too wide and too wonderful and the home front too small and too common.

Yet God is the Author of our lot (Chris Tiegreen) and discontentment speaks of dissatisfaction. Would He, who created us not know our needs. Does He, who already wrote our life story not have a plan?

And as I sit, morning by morning, on my front porch

and watch the restless birds fly to and fro

I know that I am blessed, immensely.

I am loved.

And beauty is there for the taking

if I pause awhile and open my eyes to it.

september 2nd

Each moment is precious, each hour a gift.

A new day presents itself with new opportunities

to live to the Glory of His Name.

september 1st

Showers pelt the black-eyed Susans

and leave glimpses of an upside-down world

hanging precariously all around the garden.

Just how did we fall into september so quickly?

My summer's to-do-list is longer than it was in the springtime,

and the end of summer dissatisfaction creeps in

with feelings of ineptitude and regrets.

How can we be ready to shoulder new responsibilities

when slates are not wiped clean?

august 31st

obedience plant

monday

sunday

late august

Everywhere the cobwebs stretch

reminding us that august is drawing to a close.

sunbeams

Yesternight's tempest has exhausted itself

and morning rays stretch through coniferous boughs,

as creation unbends and reaches upward.

Silver droplets still dangling in the trees

are gently loosened by the breezes

and the grass is drenched beneath bare feet.

Storms may blow wild and leave their scars

but Light breaks through without fail

and we dance again in sunbeams.