Mid-July, West Virginia

In winter, we did dream
of this extravagant heat,
this golden gale of light
that whips each sun-bared limb,
and makes our wool-wrapped, boot-toed tramps
through frosty grass
a distant planetary dream.

There's the indulgent bee,
rolled deep in velvet pollen,
half drunk on sun thick nectar,
oblivious of memories,
buzzing above the silent furnace roar
of pavement baking patiently,
some yards away.

The mockingbird, alone,
careless of blazing noon,
runs, tail high, through the bleaching grass,
after a hapless bug,
then flaps white-flashing wings
to the unshaded top
of some well-favored tree, to sing.

He sings a memory
of the north-flown cardinal,
who habited our winter
with his spark of cheer -
"'What cheer! What cheer!' is here!"
The cardinal is gone.
The red slow-fading sun
has come to linger long.
Its warmth embraces stones,
and deep, damp roots of trees,
and radiates into the humming, dusky night.

- AFB, 7-16-2024 

 

Waiting for Redwings

Today I felt a stirring in the air outside, even from the house - a slight change in the bird songs, a bright haze in the air. Gazing out the window at the damp black tree branches and wisping clouds, I remembered the redwing blackbirds. They always came when you were sure it was a little too early to expect spring, sometimes descending flight-weary on the feeders to gobble seeds with snow-dusted wings. Then from the tree tops, would come that wild cheering call as they flared their red shoulders and laughed winter to scorn. 

I thought today I could cry for joy to hear one blackbird sing. Was it about now that they came? Then, I remembered the nature log on the hutch shelf - a notebook kept with sporadic devotion to a few details, mostly first sightings, new species. I went for it, and there, last year on February 6 was "First redwing blackbird call". Today is February 5. Another year noted the 9th. It might be soon now. 

What was the value of that dated scribble? A remembrance? A comparison? A reason to hope? Perhaps it was simply that the act of writing three words had so much potential return for the cost of effort. The returning seasons are one of God's guarantees. Noting them marks my place a little more firmly in that promised cycle. 



Will I cry for joy when the first redwing sings? I don't know. I might write a poem. But I'll probably write it in the notebook. 

Easter Colors

This poem was written out of some womanly musings over Easter dresses and celebrations, reflecting on how we may try to show in bright and fresh attire our joy in the new life of spring and in the resurrection.

Shall I wear red-

Brave color of blood and battle?
Red life was bled of love

and war for me,

Til victory waked the dawn.

Was that dawn red?

Or was it gold -

Bright yellow of bright joy

When sun streaked opening sight

Into the dark and gaping mouth

Of gutted death

And sang into the blue.

Shall I wear blue?
Of sapphire pavement where he sits

Enthroned, my Lord once dead for me,

More vibrant than the cloud-strewn sky

Through which he flew.

I might wear blue

For it is what I have

Enough to walk forth into day

And sing with loved ones

That our loved One lives,

For it is true.

No color shall suffice

To show my joy

That all my love is risen from the dead,

Until beyond rainbow and sunset,

Tree and flower,
In newer life than Spring,

I walk with Him in white.

A Good Sparrow

The other morning, I decided I needed to go to Walmart (for the first time since we have lived in WV!)  because of the particular items on my shopping list that week. I loaded the children and paraphernalia into the car and headed out the driveway with the feeling of mild dread that comes from going to an unfamiliar and massive store which you don't really like, with toddlers. Maybe I should just stay home and make creative meals from the freezer and try to make the kid's shoes work until winter...but, no, I probably do need to go...

At a bend in our country road before the highway, I suddenly had to slow down for a sparrow landing in the road. The bird had spotted some tasty winged insect and was determined to have it, busy road and all. I watched him beating the tar out of the bug on the pavement until it submitted to being eaten and then fly off, triumphant in his petite success. God feeds the sparrows, and He will care for you. That's what seeing a sparrow so often brings to mind...And then I laughed. But sometimes they have to jump in the middle of the road to peck up the bugs, even if they are from the hand of God! 

All my reluctance to brave the badly lit Walmart aisles disappeared. The little bird had eaten from the hand of God in a most plucky fashion, and seeing him put pluck into me. I drove on with a smile and a light heart.

Did the Walmart shopping trip go beautifully? Well, apart from a certain child husking a corn cob randomly into the cart and then eating part of it raw before I bagged it, and screaming because of his hand being held for a certain section of aisle, and my barely rescuing a ripe plum from being eaten unbought...we did survive. And I found everything I needed. New toddler shoes for 4.99 and delightfully cheap prices on meat and cheese are almost as good as bug fresh off the road.

Sparrows by Alfred Brehm 

By His hand we all are fed.

Give us Lord our daily bread

Amen.

A Travel Chronicle

I've not made a diary-style entry on this blog for quite awhile, but it seemed the best way to record our recent trip to Canada with the few pictures taken along the way.

It all started with another of Caleb's Canadian cousins deciding to get married, to our great delight, and on Memorial Day  (for us) weekend at that! So we planned our vacation days, booked a little motel in Smith Falls, Canada, and departed from Virginia with well-diapered toddler, safely enveloped passports, too much luggage, just enough food to get eaten up before the Canadian border crossing (homemade beef jerky in the border dumpster wasn't an appealing thought), and having a prized pot of flowers safely deposited in care of our 92-year old neighbor Rosa.

We stayed a night going to and coming from the north country at my parental home in Pennsylvania, where we enjoyed attending Wednesday night prayer meeting at Grace Baptist Church (for Caleb and I, who met at the church, this is a little like going back to the coffee shop where you had your first date) and spending time with two of my brothers and their wives. Here's Uncle Benjamin and Auntie Megan regaling Walter before bedtime with one of Grandma's books.

The trip up to Canada was rather long and weary, especially as it was Walter's first road trip longer than 2 hours. We stopped frequently, including one rest stop in New York where we met two Pakistani couples (one US residing, one visiting for the first time) who asked us to take their group picture and then promptly invited us to sit down and eat with them from their generous supply of spicy chicken curry, naan and mangoes. We asked them to return the photo favor so we could remember the unique moment. Walter was too busy stuffing down spicy chicken to smile for the camera.

Who thinks of hospitality on the road? I certainly don't make a practice of packing enough food to host unexpected guests at a rest stop. It was such a sweet learning moment, and a blessing. I wish we'd gotten another passerby to get a picture of all of us together. There probably would have been enough food for them too! It was superbly delicious, but as we got back on the road, thoroughly bespattered with curry sauce (guess why?) I was already thinking about doing laundry when we got back home. I obviously needed a vacation!

The drive through the Canadian countryside after we crossed the dreaded border (where they didn't even ask if we had any meat or produce) was lovely. I'd never seen the northern profusion of lilacs that bloom across the Canadian countryside in late May like giant lavendar-plumed hedges. I didn't get a photo of them, but it probably wouldn't have done them justice. And there were the sandy-earthed stretches of birch, aspen and ferns that my Michigan-born heart loved. It was good to be north. Our travel listening encouraged this sentiment - C. S. Lewis's The Horse and His Boy with Bree whinnying for "Narnia and the north!"

When we got to the little hotel in Smith Falls, we were pleasantly surprised to see that the Indian family who operated the hotel lived on the premises. I never told them that I grew up playing with Indian children in Guyana, but it made me feel quite at home to see their shiny black braids and hear their distinctive high pitched voices chattering. Their three little girls all ran out to see "baby boy" and invite him to play on their swing set. He preferred to investigate the riding lawn mower.

After a trip to the slightly bewildering Canadian grocery store, we returned to the motel to cook our supper of chicken and green beans on the camp stove in the chilly evening breeze. It was a decidedly northern evening - light and cold at 8:00.

Grandpa and Grandma Smith had reserved the motel room right next to us, but they didn't arrive till the following afternoon. We visited the nearby locks and canals in the morning, which was very interesting (and slightly terrifying until the very curious toddler was finally strapped into his stroller where he couldn't fall off 8 foot drops into canals). I didn't get any pictures as the phone was charging in the car, but here's one off of a local website (credit) of just one section of the locks where we walked. The path continued along the canal through woods and past houses and was quite lovely.

The afternoon was simply the best of hotel life - microwaved hotdogs, naps, books, and no dishes or laundry.

Friday evening the grandparents arrived, Grandma and I whisked off to Walmart to try another round of bewildering grocery shopping, and then all of us trooped off to see the cousins at Josiah and Jenn's wedding rehearsal. The fact that the wedding program on Saturday went off without a hitch was probably due to the fact that the groom being his own excellent wedding coordinator drilled everyone with remarkable thoroughness in their steps and duties. My husband was thrilled to discover that some assistance was needed with the cordless microphones  and therefore he could technologically participate in the wedding ceremony, which made his pleasure complete.

And then,  Saturday, the wedding! It was simple, sober and sweet with navy blue and baby's breath all round and much singing. We both got teary eyed as the bride came down the aisle in her simple and elegant hand made dress (Caleb and I did - not Walter, who was more delighted that we were keeping him quiet with a tube of kid's toothpaste from my purse). We sang both new and old songs, including one new to me from Psalm 127. Considering that the groom is among the oldest of a family of ten children, the hearty singing of "Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them" gave hope of an equally fruitful future for the newly wed family. We hope that God will so bless them as they show characters fit for being fantastic parents. 

I left partway through the reception to put Walter for a nap at the hotel, and when he (and I) woke up I returned to find the bride and groom still not departed and Caleb helping with clean up. I managed to get a picture with him in the remnants of our wedding finery. And look, I did get capture one of those magnificent lilacs after all - right in the background. Good job, Abby.

The bride and groom finally left the church in united Newton-hood, and back at our motel the evening was clear, crisp and cool. I had such a whim to go and look at the night sky declaring the glory of God in some part of the Canadian wilderness that my rather tired, but kind husband agreed to take me on a creation-gazing date in the direction of Murphy's Point while Grandpa and Grandma agreed to watch Walter at the hotel. We hadn't done anything like this for many moons and it was delightful. We stayed out much too late waiting for it to get dark, as we drove down winding woodsy roads, but it was worth it to see the crescent moon hanging in the deep blue above a forest-enclosed lake, the wind rustling so cool and sweet in the silhouetted leaves and the peepers singing softly. My wish to see the stars covering the unpolluted dark sky wasn't satisfied as we hadn't realized how late full nightfall was already beginning to be at this time of year far north, but it was all beautiful nonetheless.

Sunday was spent with the remaining Newton family, attending church, preparing and eating Sunday dinner with much conversation, and poking around the ever-interesting Newton property which included things like young John's souped-up lawnmower, beans and corn seedlings in homemade seed pots, and two sweet brand-new kittens in the garage. We had a windy walk down their country road, seeing new sown fields and marshy woods sprinkled with ferns and trillium and watching young Tim and Sam spar with sticks. Somewhere my skirt pocket holds gifts of snail shells and leaves, and one shaped like a heart, from those rough but tenderhearted three youngsters who accompanied us. 

Monday morning, Memorial Day, found us packing the car in the rain to head back to the states. I was anticipating a rather dreary and weary trip, but the rain cleared as we neared the border. When we stopped in a poky little town in NY for food, Caleb declared he wanted to eat lunch in a park somewhere and followed some small signs out of town for a state park. The rolling countryside was charming, but I was even more charmed as entered the designated picnic area and saw a vast expanse of twinkling blue with no visible shore, flashing through the trees. It was Lake Ontario! I hadn't been at a Great Lake for so long, and was as happy as a clam to run down to the stony shore and walk at the water's edge after we'd eaten our lunch.

 Walter was rather concerned about the chilly water.

Happy on the pier.

The outing sent Walter into a nice long nap as we resumed our trip southward. He woke up quite cheerful! 

When we at long last reached my parent's home in Pennsylvania, my oldest brother and his wife and their son were there also, having arrived from their new home in western New York for his attendance at the Banner of Truth minister's conference with my dad. It was so good to see them all and to watch the cousins interact as real 'grown up' toddlers for the first time. 

Vacations are sweet when you don't get them often. (Who does? I guess that's the point.) It was good for this small-town mama who doesn't like driving anywhere more than 5 minutes away to pack up and go...well out of the country- and feel the bigness and yet the smallness of the world God has made. It was good to be together with nothing to do but enjoy each other and our family and nature. That's all you need in a vacation, isn't it? A few baby chuckles make it even better.

"The Lord is good to all,

and his mercy is over all that he has made." 

-Psalm 145:9, ESV

Little Laughing Flowers

Only two weeks remain for my husband to finish his college studies before graduation. He's been a soldier-student for all the time I've known him, and now a soldier-student-husband-father. The journey to finishing college has been long and arduous for this man of whom I am proud and for whom I pray.

Lately those prayers have been much of this one: "Lord, provide for him, provide a job, provide for us." Every time I walk outside and see the world with its trees and homes spread out beneath the sky, I remember our lives beneath God's face and I am stirred up to ask Him again for blessings. (How we need often to stand beneath the sky and remember our Creator!) But in the moment of prayer, my sense of need sometimes rises up against my sense of God and tries to rule my heart. What will we do without this thing for which I pray? How hard will it be to wait for this thing for which I pray? The worry rises  and the prayers rise back, perhaps more weakly. A fresh breezes come to my face and pass by, the grasses wave in it, humble golden dandelions blooming in squat glory near the pavement lift bold faces to the sun, new leaves bob proudly on dark twigs of trees above my head, and other trees revel in brief attire of glorious perfumey blossoms. 

All of it seems suddenly to be laughing at me. Do you not see, silly child of Eve, how well He has provided for us? Does not the spring always come for us to deck ourselves with joy and feed the air with beauty? And are not you the daughter of our Maker? Hohoho! Fret not! The breezes blow to me a dozen reassuring smiles from grass and flower, cloud and leaf. 

"How much more valuable are you than they?" So said Jesus. He wants me to look at all of it, the flowers, the sky and the birds, and to remember why they are there just so, and that I can trust their Maker to make something beautiful out of my life.

Near, by the footfall,
Springeth a joy,
Like a new-blown little flower
Growing for thee, to make thee glad.
Let thy countenance be no more sad,
But wake the voice of joy and health within thy dwelling,
And let thy tongue be ever telling,
Not of fear that lieth grey,
But of little laughing flowers beside the way.
For the Lord is always kind 
Be not blind, be not blind  
To the shining of His face,  
To the comforts of His grace.  
He hath never failed thee yet.  
Never will His love forget.  
O fret not thyself, nor let
Thy heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.

- Amy Carmichael

October

Oh. Autumn has come now. 

She slid silently toward us in the sunshine, 

and slipped around us a silky arm of cold. 

"Come, I will escort you through a corridor of color 

to the winter ball."

~ Alyssa Bohon 

For My Husband On the Evening of 6 Months of Marriage

My dear husband, this evening the sunset came like a surprising smile across a gloomy countenance. The clouds that had been gray before dinner were suddenly strewn with the most ravishing glory. 

I pronounced to my parents who were cleaning up the kitchen that there should be a law against washing dishes during sunsets and ran outside - with my camera because you could not be here to see it with me.

The canopy of deepest blue spread with ruffled gold was breathtaking. I must have smiled exceedingly because I came home with a pain in my jaw - quite worth is. Isn't it lovely, dearest?

The puddles from this afternoon's rain storm calmly drinking in the sky. Oh what a night to be a puddle!

I was so eager to be clear of the houses that I ran the last quarter of the block until I reached the clearing (blessed clearing - what sadness it would be to live without a space for sky to look through) and saw this.

and this...

and this...

...the heavens telling the glory of God. Oh how beautifully they told it tonight!

I miss you, my dearest companion. 

I would be desolate on evenings like this if I did not know that He who casts the rosy light across the clouds casts more dearly a smile upon my heart, and upon yours, wrapping us in the beauty of His beloved Son.

We are not alone.

The passage you read with me today came to mind:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the LORD your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

I give Egypt as your ransom,

Cush and Seba in exchange for you.

Because you are precious in my eyes,

and honored, and I love you,

I give men in return for you,

peoples in exchange for your life.

Fear not, for I am with you;

I will bring your offspring from the east,

and from the west I will gather you.

I will say to the north, Give up,

and to the south, Do not withhold;

bring my sons from afar

and my daughters from the end of the earth,

everyone who is called by my name,

whom I created for my glory,

whom I formed and made.”

(Isaiah 43:1-7 ESV)

We are safe in His love.

and I love you

"He would show"

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

- Genesis 1:1-2, ESV

A chaos was the first matter...mere earth, destitute of its ornaments, such a heavy unwieldy mass was it...This immense mass of matter was it out of which all bodies, even the firmament and visible heavens themselves, were afterwards produced by the power of the Eternal Word. The Creator could have made his work perfect at first, but by this gradual proceeding he would show what is, ordinarily, the method of his providence and grace."

- Matthew Henry

Autumn Loveliness

I finally figured out how to re-size some of my photos to fit a 1280x800 laptop screen for desktop wallpaper. Here are four of my recent fall shots.

Fall

O Summer, do you leave us and so soon?
And take from us your pleasant, sunny days
That linger into twilight, after noon
Has filled earth’s treasure with its warming rays?

The brilliant skies of autumn utter cries
Of triumph’s hope, in Earth’s futility,
To which it yearly clearly testifies,
As blazing leaves fall from each conquered tree.

No sunny prospects now before us lie,
As summer fades, and Winters’ trumpet blows
Through frosty windowsill and wild goose cry,
And dark skies bode the coming of the snows.

What light shall cheer the winter-darkened panes
Of windows once illu’med by evening rays
Of summer sun, or dewed by spring’s sweet rains -
Shall gladness shrink as shorter grow the days?

Oh no, my soul has treasures deep and true
That spreads their mighty gladness through the year
And cheer my poor heart all the winter through
And trump decays and triumph over fear.

My soul has Jesus, maker of the sun
Whose love is warmer than the summer’s rays
Who’s loved by him need never feel alone
Nor desolate the soul that sings His praise.

Let love cheer all the windows of our home
And of our souls when cold and darkness fall
Around, outside - inside they need not come.
Our hearts have Christ, our light, our joy, our all.

And when the spring returns with flowers bright
And life awakes, and birds sing high and clear
We’ll see foretold the setting all things right
That’s echoed in the turning of the year.

- AFC, 9-22-2009