Find me grateful
Find me thankful
Find me on my knees
Find me dreaming
Find me singing
Find me lost in Your grace
What is it about acoustic music, water, and a quiet paddle on a peaceful creek that is so worshipful?
While strolling around the world wide web (does anyone use that reference anymore?), I found some interesting images of the solar eclipse last August.
It's still amazing how God has orchestrated such things and being able to capture these moments.
My sister and I reminisced the other day about the summer storms we used to have.
They would boil up in the west of our house with dark clouds and the thunder could be heard from miles away. We knew how bad one was going to be just by observing how dark the clouds were coming. We haven't seen storms like that in many years...
I sometimes look up into the night sky and think how far away everything is.
And I end up feeling small.
I think God designed it this way. Not just to make us feel small. But to make us realize how incredibly awesome He is.
Two men realized that when someone pictured the universe in which we live, no one seemed to depict it to scale. They show position, and order, and other factors, but all of them seemed to fall short of an actual depiction of things to a comprehensible scale.
What they produced is something that amazes...and humbles at the same time. And yes, God remains, as always, incredibly awesome.
from The Old Farmer's Almanac (Facebook)
I've been trying to tidy up my backyard garden area.
I've been thinking that life is like a garden. It takes constant tending to make it the place it is supposed to be.
There are lots of directions I could go with this theme. The Bible has some amazing verses about gardens and the things that happen in them. They are wonderful places of understanding, of truth, and of guidance.
But this morning, I found myself listening to the words about being "In the Garden" with my Lord -- and how important it is to spend time listening to His voice.
Some of it is due to wanting to feel secluded. A family to the south of me and an older couple to the west of me are beyond trees and bushes. The obnoxious building supply store to the north of me is blocked by the barrier of thuja giant evergreen trees I planted years ago. The east is open – well, fairly open; it’s sometimes blocked by railroad cars on the tracks east of the house. Two tall evergreen trees and an adolescent maple tree give me some blockage.
But, another reason for the overgrowth comes from a love of birds.
"The moon is a stone; but it is a highly numinous stone. Or, to be more precise, it is a stone about which and because of which men and women have numinous feelings. Thus, there is a soft moonlight that can give us the peace that passes understanding. There is a moonlight that inspires a kind of awe. There is a cold and austere moonlight that tells the soul of its loneliness and desperate isolation, its insignificance or its uncleanness. There is an amorous moonlight prompting to love — to love not only for an individual but sometimes even for the whole universe."
(from the book Music At Night and other essays)
nu·mi·nous /ˈn(y)o͞omənəs/ adjective
; having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
The horizon lights up
Swirls of pink and orange
Fading to blue and purple
Few bother to look anymore
At a blessing
That only comes once a day
Each sunset is different
No two exactly alike
Difference flows throughout
While it is the only similarity
Over the ocean
Or through the sky scrapers
Out on the prairie
Or in an apartment
You can still see a piece
A piece of something
Something never to return
For the colors are shimmering
For a moment they stay
Only to disappear into change
Change just as beautiful as the last
This is why
No matter where you go
One thing remains the same,
A difference in sunsets
In your very own sunset
Since I work from home several days a week, the threat of winter weather is greatly reduced. When other facilities must close because there is an accumulation of snow on the ground making travel treacherous, I walk to my kitchen table, sign into my work computer via a remote connection, and I am at work.