Up the Sunbeam

-- Drummer boy left early for church this morning. He had to be there by 8:30  to practice with the worship band in preparation for the service the rest of us would attend later . He walked to the car and I stood in my pajamas at the open door, watching him go. He noticed me lingering there, hesitated and said, "What are you doing?" "Just feeling the fresh air," I said, drinking in the beauty of just-sprinkled flowers sparkling in the early rays of golden light. He smiled a knowing smile (he knows his momma does odd things like that), told me he loved me and proceeded to get in the car. I kept standing there even after I'd watched him drive around the bend toward the pale remnants of a tangerine sunrise. I made a point to notice how cool the gentle breeze felt on my face, how crisp and clear the air smelled, and how deep the purple of agapanthus flowers appeared against countless shades of green. It was a new morning, one I'd never seen before, the ...

-- O nce again, the high country has filled my heart (and my camera's memory cards) to overflowing. I have just returned from another trip to the mountains with my parents who love them as much as I do! This time they took me on a  lake cruise  that explores the wonders of the 55-mile long, 1,486-foot deep Lake Chelan in North Cascades National Park in the state of Washington. I may have seen more waterfalls on that day trip than I think I've seen the rest of my life put together! The spring melt was at its height and every place along those steep mountain faces where water could gather and run headlong down to that deep, cold lake, it came in a rush of blinding whitewater. There were so many waterfalls I kept having to run from one side of the boat to the other to capture the next and the next and the next (such a fun problem to have)! A t the north end of the lake, after a short bus ride, we reached the p ièce de résistance of the tour , Rainbow Falls, a 312-foot c...

I haven't decided whether it was a good idea or not. I looked back through all of my posts for 2011. I want to hang my head and hide. Am I ashamed of the pictures I've taken or the words I've written? No. But I AM painfully ashamed that so little of what I have written has produced real change in me. Conviction is darned uncomfortable.  The Holy Spirit is doing His work to refine my stubborn heart, but oh how I squirm and chafe at the feel of it.  His quiet and steady hand is more gentle on the reins than I deserve.  I wanted to be better than this by this New Year's Day and it hurts and makes me sad and sorry and angry with myself for this disappointing result. Why is it so easy to know things and so hard to be changed by them? Where is the disconnect between what I deeply believe and what I actually do? Father, how do I take all the bits and pieces of truth, the collected lessons I've learned, written, tucked away and cataloged, and keep them...

-- Hero Husband and I have something of a City Mouse-Country Mouse dynamic to our relationship and because of the difference in our backgrounds, we have learned to give each other room for our differing needs and preferences. Several years ago on a trip to Lake Tahoe, what my city boy most needed was quiet relaxation in the hotel, and what I desperately needed was mountain air and unhurried time with my camera. Selfless love enabled us each to give the other what they needed--I happily wished him a good time as he rested and relaxed in the hotel, and he gave me the freedom to go to the mountains for the day. I know he wasn't completely thrilled with the idea of me out traipsing around in the wilderness by myself, but he understood my deep need to replenish my reserves of serenity that can get so depleted by living in the city (well, the suburbs, but it feels like city by comparison to where I grew up). I took my camera and left early, excited to explore some nearby trails and wa...

I wasn't planning to write today, but I am compelled to come out of my extended quiet spell long enough to share a heartfelt moment of brokenness and love . . . and hope. On this bright, glorious Sunday, I did not feel like going to church. I did not feel like offering words of worship or songs of praise. I did not feel like giving or smiling or hugging. Crying or stamping my feet? Maybe! Worship? Not so much. My emotions just would not line up with what I know . . . would not line up with the God I know! Old fears and new developments in our personal economy were warring against the quiet stillness of my trust in God, and it was a raging battle. I had to choose sides--one or the other would have me today and the choice was mine. What I know about God and His character was never shaken--I absolutely know and trust Him to be faithful and loving, kind and compassionate, powerful and present to an infinite degree. But my emotions!!! What loud, bossy, obnoxious things ...

-- Hustle . . . hurry . . . faster, faster, faster!! Rushing, harried thoughts run like a drum beat through life. Giving attention to organization helps, but even then, there is so much to do and it all seems tied to a deadline of some kind. I rarely feel like I have the permission of . . . I don't know, the cosmos I guess, to make time for rest. If I'm not accomplishing something, achieving something measurable, I'm wasting time, right? My husband, my children, my parents, my Heavenly Father ALL tell me to take time to refresh, but . . . too often I don't, at least not in meaningful ways. I find myself instead stealing time from responsibilities in a series of little minutes-long chunks, and then feeling guilty for having stolen them, thinking, "I should be doing ______________, and ______________, and _____________, not goofing off!" Guilt, guilt, guilt. Then when I hear my Heavenly Father's prompting, "Why don't you go for a walk a...