Up the Sunbeam

-- -- Almost too pretty to look at, my eyes strain to soak up all the color, all the texture, all the blazing glory they behold. What a profusion!  Petals arrayed in joyous circumference reaching sun-ward like arms all lifted in praise to the Creator, the One who breathed stars into the sky and spoke into being the very sun they reach for. Dazzling in that glitter and gold California sun, each blossom is a thing of beauty, singly, all by itself, unique in every way. You know what? Flowers don't compare themselves to other flowers. They simply bloom. This whole comparison thing seems to be a uniquely human affliction, and I am not immuned. "Pay careful attention to your own work, for then you will get the satisfaction of a job well done, and you won’t need to compare yourself to anyone else." Galatians 6:4 NLT When the flowers preach their sermon, will I listen?  Will I, with abandon, just turn my face skyward and lift hands and heart and life to God and just be wh...

-- All is quiet. None but the night owl stirs. The clock ticks on and the candle burns at both ends, but she takes no notice. The wee hours tiptoe by until her eyes are blurry and every breath climbs to the surface as an insistent yawn, begging for the soft slow breath of sleep. Finally the stubborn night owl admits defeat and readies for sleep, knowing the time is short until a new day's light must be reckoned with. She knows she shouldn't. She wishes she hadn't. She promises she'll do better, and means it . . . until tonight comes, and then she does it all again. It isn't because she can't sleep; it isn't that she's worried or wide awake or uncomfortable. She simply loves the quiet. She is weak in the face of the intoxicating prospect of uninterrupted hours all her own. No matter how much she loves her people (which she does, fully, deeply, passionately), she needs the solitude to recharge. Sometimes she reads, sometimes she writes, sometimes she ...

-- The whimsical whistle of my cell phone ring tone beckoned from my purse.  It was She So Sweet's biology teacher returning my call to answer a couple of questions I had about his class.  He was very helpful in answering my questions and in the course of our conversation, I decided to talk to him a little bit about the upcoming unit on evolution. With a 20 year (combined) history of my kids being in public schools and many teachers during that time who were . . . um . . . passionate about their beliefs in evolution, I always like to touch base with new teachers, hopefully to assure that they will at the very least be respectful of students who hold a creationist viewpoint.  I was so impressed with this teacher (who clearly does believe in evolution) when he spoke of "the theory of evolution and what it suggests."  I was quick to thank him for stating it that way rather than the fierce dogma I have experienced from other teachers. We went on to have a very cordi...

-- As a little girl, there were few things I loved as much as trips to the mountains . My folks would pack up our Volkswagen and we would leave the verdant corn fields of the fertile Iowa plains in pursuit of the wilder beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Some of our biggest dreams, God-sized dreams, were born there. We would camp among the towering trees of National Forests and make hot chocolate and S'mores at our evening campfire. At dawn, my Iowa farm-girl mom was already up, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast--there is nothing like the smell of sizzling bacon blended with the heady fragrance of pine trees and morning-crisp mountain air! Oh! Take me back!! Our days would find us in our intrepid Volkswagen, Daddy driving, treating the little red bug like a jeep or a mountain goat depending on the quality of the road that had caught our fancy. The place s we went!! The things we saw!! The rarefied air we breathed!! "No clan on earth possesses the memories that...