Sprigs, Twigs and Sprouts

This is where it began.  At least this was my contributions to the family tree.  

Those were the days.  They were often days when I wondered if ever I would sleep through the night.  They were days of strewn toys, skinned knees, peanut-butter kisses, dandelion bouquets (mommy orchids, I called them) and joy.

We grew up together, these four and I, the daddy often away from the home. 

I played along with them, delighting in them.  It never occurred to me to do otherwise.

I was young and ignorant so followed what I knew from my own mamma's example.  As it turned out, that was the best example possible, Praise God.

Then these four grew and did their part to increase the tribe, yea verily. 

These four, now eight begat nine.  

Grand children! 

Never in my wildest imaginings could I have conjured up the incomparable delight of that new generation. Such fruit, such reward!  Such treasures and delights!

Watching my children parent, lovingly, patiently, wisely was something of wonder.  The resulting twigs that grew enriched our lives unspeakably and continue to do so.  Who could imagine such beauties, such antics and wit, such laughter and song?

And now.  Now those darlings are grown.  They too are beginning to marry and to add to our well-root tree.

Great-Grands!  Joy bringing, heart bursting, hug giving wonder surpassing all else.

And this year, once again, still more will be added.  Sisters Three are in happy production for the delight of us all.  When Spring is blooming, there should be, Lord willing, an new total of three.  This will make the grand Grand total seven.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined all this.  To have lived long enough to see this coming generation, to have my wits about me - mostly - to actively enjoy and take a small part in their lives - in truth, words fail.

Here now is our most recent sprig with two sprouts yet to come.

Wee Joseph Michael is the lad of the moment. The newest, most precious addition.

This old woman can't help but rejoice and sing along with the Psalmist:

O God, from my youth you have taught me,

and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds.

So even to old age and gray hairs, O God,

do not forsake me,

until I proclaim your might to another generation, 

Your power to all those to come.

~Psalm 71.17-20

I find myself like Mary who

"...treasured  up all these things, pondering them in her heart."

Beginning Again

Back on the trail again and hopefully with a measure of consistency.

It has been a long while since I have felt settled enough to think through blog posting with any regularity.

Reviewing the year past I can say with all honesty, it was Jobean!  Yet through it all we learned to say with Job "though He slay me, yet will I trust Him" and "the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord".  

Best of all personally it would be " As for me, I would seek God, and to God would I commit my cause, who does great things and unsearchable, marvelous things without number.".

Important lessons are to be learned in Jobean times.  What is important is made clear when life becomes stripped down and simplified.  Among the important things is ones faith, ones family and books. These help keep me, at least, centered when the storm roars and my little boat is tossed about.  Am I mixing metaphors?
No matter. You understand my meaning I am sure, Dear Reader.

In the future, there will be posts referring back to this time, back to experiences and learnings.  But hopefully too, in the new year there will be posts about the nonsensical aspects of my life, of temporal things, of the creative.  There will be 'book reports' too.  Count on this as books play an important role in my daily life.  With Spring will come the garden.  And too, events relating to our increasing family as these are changing times and happy days as well.
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There will be continuing reports and comments of things spiritual, struggles and discoveries.  Perhaps it is an age thing, but the spiritual - those times of 'the thin places' - becomes more real, more important.

So there, Dear Kind and Faithful Reader is the sum and substance.

More than anything in this new year, my hearts longing is to 'be found in Him' who is my Life,
     to encourage others along the trail,
          to walk with Joy
               and to echo Job with assurance -

He knows the way that I take;

when He has tried me,

I shall come out as gold.

My foot has held fast to His steps

and have not turned aside.

The Road Untrodden

The Untrodden path is unknown but it is still a road
It begins somewhere and leads somewhere..
The Believer walks in a way prepared of the Lord.
The Way is a unit, every part a part of the whole.
Each part leads to the next and the next is the result of what went before.

Today is the sum of all yesterdays, and each tomorrow is the issue of the day before.

The continuity remains.  The end and the beginning belong to the same road.

Before each of us, is the untrodden road of a New Year.

In such cases, for the pilgrim two things are sure:

     the Presence of the Lord
     and the sufficiency of His Grace.

That is all.

That is enough.

Lo, we can tread rejoicing

The narrow pilgrim road;

We know the voice that calls us,

We know our faithful God.

_____

Thoughts fed by those of Samuel Chadwick (1860-1932)

Poetry from Gerhardt Ter Steegen (1697-1769)

Surprised By Truth. Again

Just in the quiet course of today's reading there came that "touch it to see if the ink is dry" moment.

Reading Walter Riggan's commentary to the book of Numbers, this definition of shalom was written:

"...the peace which alone reconciles and strengthens,

which calms us and clears our sight,

which frees us from restlessness

and from the bondage of unsatisfied desires,

which imparts the consciousness of attainment,

the consciousness of permanence

in the midst of the transitoriness of oursel'es and of outward things."

~Montefiore, Jewish scholar.

This is the peace we are promised by our Lord, the peace from Him which the world cannot take away.

That's the word for This Day.

It is enough. 

It is more than enough.

Lord, grant this peace this day.  

Blaze it through each moment,

that in my life  any semblance of this peace can be clearly seen as being from you alone. 



Moving House, or "Here We Have No Continuing City"

The time has come.  The editing of our life has begun in all seriousness.  This will be move # 28 for us in 56 years of married life.  While considering myself an expert packer, moving house is still one of life's traumatic events, let no one tell you otherwise. 

The scale to which we must reduce chattels is major. It isn't so much that I've been a collector as such, more that I've been a saver.  [You don't know what you might need next time round, in the next home etc.] Alas, it adds up to a houseful no matter how it is sated! 

Hopefully, after this move this time, there will be no next time. Lord willing, from this new abode coming, we will simply lift off when we hear The Trumpet.  No packing required.  Or go underground to await that Trumpet.  No packing required for that either.

How does one edit?  Delete? (How I wish there was a 1-click button for this process.) 

In the early years of the Home & Garden channel programing, one addressed out of control homes where clutter ruled.  The family members were shown how to bring order out of chaos, how to let go, get rid of things.

The woman who led this was a gracious woman but ruthless.  One of the phrases she oft repeated, when faced with an item on which much sentimental stress was placed "This is not your Mother" (or father, grandmother, etc).  "Hold the memory", she said.  "If necessary take a photo, but let go".  Sterling advice to this professed Pilgrim.  I'm trying.  With all my profound and spiritually minded statements in times past, I humble acknowledge that I'm a clinger.  I know its stuff.  I know its temporal and "all going to burn."  But still....

 When it comes to closet and clothes editing, my daughter laughingly keeps before us both what Franciscan John Michael Talbot says when choosing the outfit for the day: "Shall I wear brown or brown"?  Its not likely I'll reduce to that extent, but I'm aiming to make the maxim a reality:  "Simplify, simplify, simplify".

So Dear Reader, this is where I've been and where you find me This Day.  There are innumerable cartons to fill. Yet, in the days ahead I will have more thoughts and comments to make, no doubt.  Bear with me and keep tuned in.

In the meantime, eendeavoring to ever keep before myself the absolute and certain fact that truly here we have no continuing City; and that we are looking forward to the City which has a fixed and firm foundation, whose Architect and Builder is God. 

Yet, for now, looking forward to moving to the home of a much beloved daughter.

Now I Remember Why I Love Springtime

Today is one of those blissful days of Northwest Spring.  

The sky is blue, the clouds white and fluffy.  It is bright.  

The air smells of honey.

  

The birds serenade, singing their tiny hearts out.  

Mourning doves coo on the wires overhead.  

The Man Himself is in the Holey Land golfing with his chum.

The garden is full and gloriously green.  Even the weeds look fine and healthy.  Naturally.

And so into the garden.  Whether it is moving seedlings, weeding or just enjoying the scene,  it feeds the soul.  (There is also the unkind reminder that winter time indoors with books and things, while most pleasant, does nothing to keep muscles up to form!)

Today the particular delight is digging up extra baby things to give to a gardening friend who is just beginning.  Ladies Mantle, Welsh poppy, tiny pink violets, all will be shared.  These are among my favorite spring things and being a passionate gardener, I want others to thrill to those plants and thrill me.

Back to other gardening delights. Working and weeding among the herbs remind me why I began gardening 30 years ago.  The bracing smell of rosemary, the  sweet licorice fragrance of Sweet Cicily, this you can almost taste.  Setting out the basil bring to mind all the good eats in the season ahead.  The sage is looking lovely, the nobby heads of the chives are just beginning to color.  The lovage, which is one of my garden essentials, is tall and lovely and has already made its way to the salad bowl.

The red currant bush is now in fruit, its tiny green jewel-like clusters hanging generously about.

The rhubarb has  begun to be 'sauced'.

So there it is for today.  Nothing brilliant or wise to be said.  It's only to share the stirrings that move the soul to the wonder of The Promise.

"While the earth remains,

seed time and harvest,

cold and heat, summer and winter, 

and day and night shall not cease.

...

Yet He did not neglect to leave some witness of Himself,

for He did you good and kindnesses, 

and gave you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons,

satisfying your hearts with nourishment and happiness."

The Long View

Some day of days!

Some dawning yet to be

I shall be clothed

with immortality!

And, in that day,

I shall not greatly care

That Jane spilt candle wax upon the stair.

It will not grieve me then,

as once it did,

That careless hands have chipped my tea pot lid.

I groan, being burdened.

But, in that glad day,

I shall forget vexations of the way.

That needs were often great, when means were small,

Will not perplex me any more at all.

A few short years at most (it may be less),

I shall have done with earthly storm and stress.

So for This Day,

I lay me at Thy feet.

O, keep me sweet, my Master!

Keep me sweet!

~Fay Inchfawn