A box of ashes

It sat motionless, burgandy velvet bag, on the wooden table, ashes of 91 year old friend,. Her soul already with the Living God, yet a strange presence these past three months remained. Each day I'd work for her widowed husband, sorting through a life in boxes and files. Passed the velvet, touching the softness and smiling at her. A memory in a box, Eleanor's ashes. Tomorrow those ashes, Eleanor's life remains, will be interred at the Arlington Cemetery. The velvet bag will be gone, the enclosed box buried. But her memory, her life's work, lovely Eleanor will linger on and on.....

Meeting

8:30 church service in 14 degree weather, now that's committment. But I hadn't been in weeks because of sickness and longed for community, even though most people are strangers. Early morning service isn't as crowded as the other two, and this morning there were fewer than usual. Normally I seat myself away from others, a couple or more seats to comfortably separate. But this morning chose to sit right next to an elderly lady on the aile seat. Asked her before sitting down if she minded and she said no. We chit chatted before the service began, exchanged names, asked basic questions about our lives. Velma, probably in her late 70's, early 80's, leaned over before the music started and said, "this is my first time here." She seemed sad, but it was hard to tell for sure since I just met her. I wondered why she was alone, did she have a husband, was she widowed? After the service, I walked with her to the parking lot and found out she moved to Leesburg a couple months ago from Indiana. Her husband, James, was a pastor and recently passed away. She now lives with her daughter until she can work through her grief and find a place. I had a business card on me and gave it to her in hopes that she will contact me for a coffee outing. Not sure she will, grief is often paralyzing until one can regain strength and walk again. I expressed my sorrow for the pain of losing the love of her life, over 50 years of marriage, and now alone. The car registered 19 degrees as I drove out of the parking lot. I was grateful I "longed" for community and found it in the sufferings of a new widower. Her season of life reflected in the cold frigid air, barren trees, but...the sun was shining, the sky vivid blue, hope that will one day be renewed. Velma is now in my heart, thoughts and prayers.

Growing Gray

Because I am constantly asked why I went gray and how to grow gray, I am wiring a short booklet on my own personal journey. this booklet will cover the past 8 plus years I have been gray and what I've learned along the way. It will not be an instructional manual on the techniques of growing out dyed hair, but more the emotional side of this major life choice.....and it is a "major" life choice ;-). Topics will include how I researched and made the decision, getting opinions from loved ones, how to transition over, the awkward parts, and more.

Gratefully Supplied

"As water drops on the thirsty ground,
the dry soil slowly drinks in its supply
rain clouds give up heavy droplets..
like diamonds falling from nthe sky
The earth aniticipates its meal -
the clouds happy for the release.

O thirsty ground groans and melts
beneath its heavenly supply
water, sweet sustenance soaks
down to fin awaiting roots

Beneath its hidden soil
roots become alive at the touch
of wet soil
rejuvenation - hungry roots soak
in moisture like a straw
up flows the sustenance, water, life revived

up to the flowering plant
gazing at her provider
up rises weary stalks
straight and strong

sweet fragrance is the grateful gift she leaves
like throwing kisses in the air
flower extends thanks, gratitude
supply...receiving...strengthening..gratefulness"

do robins cry when baby birds die?

i was greeted each morning for the past month by a robin who kept "attacking" her own reflection in our family room window. it wasn't enough for her to attack that window, but she proceeded to visit other windows of our home leaving behind a feathery mess. i wondered what was going on...until i discovered her nest neatly tucked against the house and the drain pipe. a house so skillfully built.. day after day dave, the girls, and i would peek out the door and observe her on her nest..sitting like a princess on her throne. father bird gathered slimey worms and would feed her...at times he would watch the "eggs" while she canvased the garden for tasty treats.

this went on for weeks...during severe rain storms...faithfully sitting on her future flock, protecting, giving...bird teacher telling me that motherhood in the animal kingdom is also about sacrifice. and so i personally observed, took notice, of this bird couple about to hatch a family. until the other day....

i came home to find the nest on the ground and one baby robin dying almost dead. that is when the tears flowed. now why did i cry about a baby bird that died? i wondered if the robins cry when their babies die? of course these are fleeting thoughts...and birds are not people...yet the tears came anyway and the sting was felt...that sometimes, even in sacrifice, when you have done all you can do...dreams fall to the ground and shatter. life turns to death..a page is turned a chapter ended and possibly a book is closed. dreams and visions of what a "flock" would look like takes flight on different wings, catches the winds in directions unfamiliar and sometimes lands in unpleasant places. these are the times where sorrow is felt in mothering...where one...i should say "i" wonder...could i have done better? could i have predicted this outcome? could i have prevented this from happening?

but then i pick up the nest in my hands and carefully exam...each piece of hay, grass entwined, a home weaved from nature itself...hard work on display for all to see...commitment, care, protection...the nest tells me the work is good regardless of the outcome. i can't always "see" the work from the "results" they often bleed together in my thoughts.

and i think of why...why do i do the things i do? is it to look good to others? to somehow prove that i am capable? am i eager to live a life of ease? or do i do what i do to delight the one who observes all? am i "working" to honor Him in all things and leave the results to Him...or better yet, to trust Him with the results...because you see the "results" are not over yet...there is still life and breath...He is still in control over all the affairs of life...over my flock. as i am typing , i can see the strong, beautiful nest out my window....i kept it on a porch table ... a reminder....my efforts are not in vain if they are done for Him.....

....male robin plucks dried grass from nest...flies to another nest...building for the future continues...

Canopy of Grace

As I awoke this morning the thought came to me that I am under a canopy of grace. I am covered, living in the shadow of His love. This canopy protects me from the elements of my day....mighty winds, stormy clouds, and the blistering sun. Canopy set by Sovereign boundaries.

Sometimes, there are seasons where this canopy is closed in, shadow seems small...,hemming me in, cocooning for a season...like the catepillar, a season of change for new growth to transpire. In the chrysallis, time seems irrelevant, as the meticulous and miraculous transforms my being into a greater image of Him. But I must rest secure, waiting for the timing, not rushing a work set in motion. So I quiet my questioning heart...tell my soul to hang, suspended by mercy and grace, and allow change...in the darkness of this place, in the isolation, in the suspension...grace, silent stillness, quiet finger of God at work.

More lessons from my feathered friends.....

This morning I observed one of the mourning doves sitting on the deck rail next to a small table that has a bird feeder on it. The doves and other birds like to regularly eat from this feeder...I believe they consider it their kitchen. As this dove contently sat a flock of seven black birds descended onto the deck, table, and tree next to the table. I wondered what the dove would do in the midst of so many birds bigger than herself (I am assuming it is the female bird...since she is next to the "kitchen ": ) ) not only were they bigger but they had longer sharper beaks/bills compared to her small beak AND she was out numbered seven to one! To my amazement, this dove continued to stay seated on the rail while the black birds flew back and forth, to and fro from the deck to the table, to the feeder to the tree....they looked confused by her presence. She was unmoved by their presence...she stood her ground as if to say "this is my kitchen!" . At one point she flew to the table and shook her head at one of the black birds and it flew away....the others joined him in his flight. There she was...all by herself, apparently unruffled by what just happened...and flew back to her post on the rail.

I could not believe what I had just witnessed! Beneath her gentle and meek ways, this dove was one tough cookie! I thought about gentleness and meekness and many things came to mind...scripture that says "His gentleness makes me great"...."the meek will inherit the earth"....Jesus is gentle and humble in spirit and we are to learn from Him....and so many other references to gentleness and meekness. The world would say that those who are gentle and meek are really WEAK, but oh no, they could not be further from the truth. Gentleness is truly a quiet, confident strength in God. A confidence based not on who the person is but WHOSE the person is...a child of God. So in the midst of difficult trials, attacks from our spiritual foe, lies from the world, sins of our own heart...where we may "feel" out numbered, out powered....there is a strength from within...a gift from the Holy Spirit...where we can sit confidently in God in the midst of storms. And just like my little "featherd" friend....we do not run away in fear but we face fear with confident hope.