Heaven's Declaration

I have a friend who takes pictures of the sunrise almost every morning and posts them on facebook. It never ceases to cheer me, particularly since he is someone who endured great loss and the picture of hope moves me. I am often up before the sun, but I usually am already busy at work, and don't see the sunrise. Besides, our street is filled with tall trees and the horizon is mostly blocked from view. But this morning when I glanced out the window as I got up, I saw a pretty sunrise with all those beautiful colors that remind me God paints a new picture every morning.

It is not an easy life. There are so many struggles, hurts, misunderstandings that make our view drab and cheerless at times. But it is hard not to see God's message of renewal every morning, when the entire sky is declaring it.

****************

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. -Psalms 19:1

Moving Mountains

     After our dinner break at the ski slope, we were ready for the night session. The temperature had dropped 15 degrees, and I had no scarf or cover for my chinny chin chin. We had driven down the mountain for fast food, and as I was driving back up, I veered into a ski shop parking lot.

   "I need a ski mask," I told the crew, hopping out of the car.

   "Why?" asked one of the kids.

   "So I can rob a bank."

    I entered the store, where a nice young salewoman with a nosering asked me if she could help me.

    "I am about to night ski, and I am already cold. What do you have for my face?"

    I am grateful she didn't suggest plastic surgery, or a nose ring. She led me to face masks, which have a fancy name starting with B, but all my friend Danielle and I could think to call them were "baklava", which I believe is actually a delicious pastry.

    The saleswoman showed me my choices and then looked at me.

    "I think you need a junior size," she said,  handing me an extra small. This means my head is the size of a toddler's.

"The good thing is," she added, "They are cheaper than adult sizes."

     I know what you are thinking, and believe me, I have wondered myself. Does head size correlate with brain size...and what are the implications for intellectual development? I am thinking, not good.

     "Are you sure I don't need one the size of perhaps a five year old?" I asked.

     "Try on the extra small," she urged.

     It fit. Oh well. There are worse things than being a pin head....like being a butt head and most of the time I am not that. Good things do sometimes come in small packages, even extra small packages at times.

     Look at faith, for example. Jesus tells His disciples though their faith be as small as a mustard seed, it is large enough to move mountains. I skied joyfully down the mountain thinking of small things, little joys that bubble over and grow. Small hopes and dreams that slowly build, and little faith that can one day move mountains. I watched Asherel and her friends snowboard like pros, and remembered how once they could not go a foot without falling.

     A lady crashed into me and Danielle when we stood in a ski line. She was unable to stop or even stay upright on her skis. Danielle said, "It's ok. We all have been there. We all started that way."

     Little things have such a lovely potential of growing.

     I was toasty warm. Danielle had a matching "Baklava", so we sat like two Bobsey Twin bank robbers on the ski lift. The night was dark, and the snow was bright. I told Danielle as we slowly rose towards the stars that I felt like I was in a cocoon, bundled in all my ski clothes and my face tucked behind my extra small ski mask.

Matthew 17:20 NIV

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

He who Laughs

I am doing a top secret project and I can't tell you anything about it or it will spoil the surprise...but every time I look at it, I laugh. I conceived the project a few months ago and have consulted the aid of just one other informant in carrying out my task. Since then, every time I have thought of the project, I laugh. It will be several months yet before I can reveal the project, and I imagine, for several months, I will be laughing.

Laughter is good, regenerative, cleansing. Laughter blows away the shrouds of despair. Laughter makes joy bubble up from within, sometimes at most unexpected times. Laughter is contagious. Asherel has a soundtrack of laughter on her iPod. Every single time she plays it, I roll my eyes at her, but then inevitably, we are both laughing as hard as we can.

I think our next president should run on a platform of "laughter." Think how much more willingly we would all pay our taxes if we knew we would get a good laugh in return? And I mean something other than the laughable policies that are already in place. I mean real honest to goodness funny...on purpose.

I used to be a "deep" reader- reading only books that enlarged my conscience and my mind....but lately what I really want to read is something funny. It is surprising how little really funny stuff is out there. There is smut and bad language that passes for funny nowadays, but honest, clean funny is rare. (Honestly, with a little self promotion here...it is part of what I hoped to achieve with my book, I'm Listening with a Broken Ear, which it is not too late to order for Christmas, free shipping, and on sale from Amazon.... Tell all your friends.)

When Job's friends are trying to comfort him in the midst of unspeakable woes, they assure him not that his fortunes, children, or health will be restored, but that God will "fill your mouth with laughter." (Job 8:21)
They knew that laughter is indeed a God given medicine for a distraught heart. Now, laughter has its place. We are also warned in the Bible not to bring levity into a house of mourning, because it can hurt and offend. There are times when laughter should be suppressed. However, I think everyone would be better off if they embarked on a secret project like mine...one that makes them laugh every time they look at it. After all, like all gifts of the human spirit, laughter was created by God.

Psalm 126

 ¹ When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion,
   we were like those who dreamed.
² Our mouths were filled with laughter,
   our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
   “The LORD has done great things for them.”
³ The LORD has done great things for us,
   and we are filled with joy.

In the River

There was a dead body along the very same section of the very same river we kayaked on the very same day we were there. The body was found, reported the newspaper, by recreational kayakers.

I put the paper down. I had just returned from that part of the Catawba. I had been largely alone for the hour I kayaked upriver. Funny, as I had been paddling, thinking how quiet and peaceful it all was, how wonderfully still and isolated, it had also flashed through my mind that it would be a good place to stash a dead body.

This body appeared to be there because it wanted to be. The corpse had been involved in a hit and run accident earlier in the day, and had been seen leaving the scene of the crime. Of course, at that point it had not yet been a corpse. An autopsy would be performed to determine cause of death,but my guess was the conscience of the man had gotten a hold of him,and he could not live with what he had done. Who knows what other demons were torturing his soul that made him throw himself in the river, the place of refuge where I go not to die, but to live!

I had gone to the river all alone, unable to entice my family to go with me. I am working on getting the e-book ready for publication as a paperback, and also working on my next book. I needed a break. So I blasted songs from my new Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on my portable CD and sang along as I drove to the river.

Once I was out of earshot of the few kayakers I saw on the river (were they the ones that discovered the corpse?), I began to sing. Softly at first, furtively glancing around to make sure that no one but the crows were listening and then began belting out such classics as "Can't help lovin that man of mine," and "We kiss in the shadows". I glided along, feeling my mood rise with each dip of the oar. I could almost see Asherel rolling her eyes and wincing as I screeched to the high notes. I saw a bald eagle fly right over me, and no one told me, "That's not a bald eagle; it's too small."

Once home, refreshed and re-spirited, I thought about the poor corpse. Nothing is ever so bad that it is worth sullying the waters of such a beautiful river with something so tragic as a suicide. There is always the potential for change, the chance for redemption, the promise of tomorrow. It is the message of the Gospel- we are all broken, we are all headed for destruction, but it doesn't have to be the end of the story. Our loving God is waiting at the end of the river, and He is probably even singing along quietly with us.

Isaiah 66:12 NIV

For this is what the Lord says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;

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The Devil Chased from the Deviled Eggs

When I walked in to the Alzheimer unit to pick up Comer and Evelyn, two unfamiliar women sat on the bed talking with them. Normally I get Comer from his building across the campus, and then we drive over to Evelyn's building. He called me cryptically before I left the house and told me to meet him at Evelyn's place. When I arrived, Comer and Evelyn were holding hands and Evelyn looked up at me, and smiled brightly.
"Are you the neighbor who takes Comer and Evelyn out every week?" asked one woman. She had a clipboard in her hand.
"One of them," I answered, "And we have a treat for today! Evelyn, I have a whole CD full of songs from the 40s!"
"Oh my!" she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Will you still be taking them out when they go to Sunrise?"
I paused and glanced at Comer. He grinned slyly back at me.
"Sunrise?" I asked.
"They will be moving there Tuesday," answered the other woman.
Evelyn's cheeks were sliding right off her face, she was smiling so big.
"Will they be together?" I asked.
All four heads bobbed.
"Same building, separated only by an elevator. They can see each other as long as they want, as often as they want, all day, every day."
"Oh Evelyn!" I cried, clutching her hand in mine, "No more saying Goodbye!"
"Yes," she said, laughing.
"Well then this will be a celebration lunch!" I said.
"Then we will be out of your hair," said the Sunrise representative. She leaned over and shook Comer's hand, "And we will see you Tuesday."

As we headed to the elevator, I said, "Comer! How did you keep this a secret?"
"I wanted to tell you myself, and see your face."
"Oh Evelyn, you must be so happy! What is your favorite food so we can celebrate in style!?"
Without pausing, she said, "Deviled eggs!"
"Evelyn...you're killin' me here.....I don't know any fast food place that sells deviled eggs. What is your second favorite?"
"Fried Chicken."
"Ok- we can do that, and how about a milkshake?"
"Oh yes!"
"And Asherel is ready in the car with a CD filled with songs you will know."
"Oh! Asherel is here!" said Evelyn merrily, her bubbling joy sincere.

We only spilled the milkshake once as we meandered through rainy neighborhoods. There were 50 songs on the CD and Evelyn knew every one. Somehow, in between singing, she managed to eat her entire meal, and all but the little bit of spilled milkshake.
"She's eating again," said Comer smiling, in reference to her month or so of listlessly wasting away.
"She sure seems like someone who discovered a reason to keep living," I said, smiling back at him.
"She sure seems to," he agreed.

As we returned to the Alzheimers Center, Evelyn gripped my arm offered in support, and we quietly sang , "When you're smiling...." which has become our anthem. As we passed a woman with a slack face, clutching her walker, she glanced up and began singing with us. We stopped in front of her and finished the song together.
"You have a lovely voice!" I told her, taking her hand in mine.
"I don't know where it's been hiding....maybe in my toes," she answered, patting my hand.
"Happy Easter everyone," I called to the solemn group of elderly folk ringing the room.
"Happy Easter," said one perpetually grinning man in a wheelchair.

Resurrections come in many sizes. There is of course the Big one, the one we will celebrate on Sunday. That is Resurrection with a capital R. But there are little resurrections too, daily resurrections where hope that was but a flicker rekindles and songs from long ago leap across time to settle on ears that had ceased to listen for angels, for the triumph of miracles. And sometimes when you are smiling, the whole world really is smiling too.

Psalm 27:5-7

⁵ For in the day of trouble
   he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
   and set me high upon a rock.
 ⁶ Then my head will be exalted
   above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
   I will sing and make music to the LORD.

Joy of her Life

We walked into the Alzheimer's unit. Most of the residents were sleeping in chairs in front of a television. One sat across the room, awake, looking straight ahead, arms folded on her lap. Her eyes were vacant, staring at nothing. As my friend, her husband, moved towards her, her eyes slowly focused and her sad face brightened. As though a light were turned on within, the occupants suddenly flooding home gaily, her smile shattered the old landscape. She beamed at him with recognition.
"Your husband is here!" said a nurse.
"My husband!" repeated Evelyn.
Komer hugged his wife. He had been felled by two strokes and then pneumonia. He had been unable to visit her for a long time, and I know his greatest fear was she would no longer know him. Prior to the strokes, he had lived in an independent facility just around the corner from Evelyn. He had used a motorized chair to rumble over to see her every day. Now, he had no way to get to her from the much further assisted living portion of the grounds where he had to be moved. His visits would be dependent on a busy family...and friends. Evelyn had an excuse if she forgot him. I realized I had none.

"You remember Vicky?" Komer asked Evelyn, "Our neighbor Vicky?"
Evelyn looked at me, and repeated, "Neighbor Vicky....."
"You look beautiful, Evelyn!" I said, taking her small hand in mine.
"You look beautiful...too," she said.
We walked to her room and as she sat down, she hugged Komer again and said, "You look beautiful."
She sat on the edge of her bed and peered at me. Then she smiled, "Vicky- our neighbor from next door." She looked deeply in my eyes and I felt she remembered me and was trying to seal that memory in her failing brain.
I stayed only a few minutes and told them I would leave them now for as long as they would like and return when Komer was ready to head home.
Then I drove around, crying like a baby.

Komer had told me a few weeks back that his heart was breaking.
"She is alive," he said, "But there is no joy in her life."
Then he wept.

When I returned to pick him up, the nurse helped him out of the door and he slowly came to the car. As he slid in, I asked if he had a nice visit.
"It was tiring," he said, "She won't sit still. Every second she would get up and wander. I had to keep bringing her back."
"Well sounds like you got your exercise!" I said.
I returned Komer to his apartment, and as I walked him to the door, I told him, "Komer, remember how you told me Evelyn had no joy in her life? I think you were wrong. Did you see how she smiled when she saw you walk in today? Komer, you bring Evelyn joy."
He bowed his head, and cried softly.
"Would you like me to bring you again tomorrow, after we get back from church?"
He nodded quickly, "Please!"

I hugged Komer goodbye, and asked if it would be ok if I prayed with him. As I hugged him, I reminded him that the Lord who loves us longed for us to be with Him through all eternity, with bodies that didn't give out, never forgot a loved one, and would no more suffer. And the joy of our lives would be with us always.

He shuffled slowly away, his cane tapping the pavement like a beating heart.

Psalm 90:13-15

 ¹³ Relent, LORD! How long will it be?
   Have compassion on your servants.
¹⁴ Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
   that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.
¹⁵ Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
   for as many years as we have seen trouble.

Isaiah 49: 15-16

¹⁵ “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
   and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
   I will not forget you!
¹⁶ See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
   your walls are ever before me.

Rejoicing

It was a delicate operation- one false move and the trapped victim would fall into the jaws of the giant fan to certain, excruciating death. The jaws of life gently wrapped themselves around the injured body and slowly, slowly lifted it from its precarious perch. The crowd watched tensely, afraid to breathe. Inch by inch, the unconscious victim was lifted and maneuvered from the grate 30 feet in the air. There was a sudden shudder, and we all gasped. The victim was shaking itself- would it lose the tenuous hold with the jaw of life and plummet forever out of reach? No! Praise God- the model helicopter's rotors began to spin when freed of the grate, and flew unharmed into its savior's arms. A tail fin was broken off, but the copter was otherwise unscathed from its night spent atop the giant fan where it had inextricably lodged during its maiden flight. We all cheered.

We came home victorious, helicopter safely in hand. What had looked like certain loss, impossible retrieval, and destruction had instead become a back slapping and wondrous moment of rejoicing. It had not been hopeless, though it had certainly appeared that way.

The disciples of Jesus, the original Apostles would know what I was talking about. For three days, they hid in an upper room, their world turned upside down. Jesus had seemed to be the real thing, the long awaited Messiah who would rescue Israel from her enemies and people from themselves. But where was He now? Buried in a cave, meeting the same ignominious fate of all mankind. And you know what they were all gathered in the room saying: (note- the Bible doesn't record this, but I am a highly trained amateur writer and I am sure it could have gone down like this)
Thomas: I told you so. I had my doubts all along but would anyone listen- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Peter: Oh shut your trap! So we hoped for something that didn't quite pan out. So sue me. I would gladly die for those few moments of hope!
(rooster crows in the background)
Peter- Well, not die necessarily, but I would certainly express appreciation with cheering and dancing.
(rooster crows second time)
Peter: Well not necessarily cheering and dancing, but I would send a postcard thanking Him for His timely message.
(rooster crows a third time)
Peter: Jesus who? How could we have been so deceived!!!!
John: At least we have His words. The Word is Life.
Mark: John can you for one moment lay off the poetic speech? Your last name is not Lennon.

And so on and so forth. Squabbling, crying, blaming, and despairing. All their hopes and dreams crushed with resounding finality. Dead and buried. Hope was impossible now.

And then a knock on the door changed everything. They opened the door and after slamming it in His face, finally realized that the darkness was not quite as complete as they had envisioned. There He stood before them, stretching out His nail scarred hands for them to touch. All was not lost. Death had not won! Destruction did not have the final word. Hope was alive!

It may feel impossible. It may look like the worst that could happen has happened. And life really does throw some nasty iceballs right at our face sometimes. But the giant Jaws of Life are always near, always reaching to save us, always ready to lift us out of the morass of despair to something we cannot begin to know exists til we are flying there.

"Next time," said Asherel holding the copter, "We'll put a pin on the top so it doesn't get stuck on the ceiling."
"Yes, good idea," I agreed, "But it is ok now, because we know how to rescue it."

1 Thessalonians 4:12-14

¹³ Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. ¹⁴ For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

Joy covers joy

The final morning at Hilton Head, I got up really early so I could have one last glorious bike ride on the beach before the 10 am checkout time. The tide had just started to go out so the riding was not easy in softer sand. Still, it was quiet and the beach was nearly empty. I had seen it all this vacation- Portugese Man of War, ocean alligator, herons close enough to touch, live sting rays, dolphins, the Great Pyramid in sand... there was nothing left to see. God had showered me with abundant visions to carry for the year, like a starter ember glowing so the fire could be rekindled should I ever need it. I was content.... and tired. The sand was deep and I had awoken by 6 every morning that week so I would not miss the glory of the lovely empty beach by bicycle.

And then I noticed a speck on the sand, right at the surf line. It looked like a turtle.
"UH-uh," I said, laughing, "I will not be fooled again this year!"

Last year, I had been biking in the early morning, and seen a baby turtle. With amazement, I stopped my bike and was exultant in seeing my first live baby sea turtle. I followed him as he trudged across the sand, and took some pictures, and then chucked him past the surf. Later I met a wildlife official, and told him what I had just seen. He said it could not have been a sea turtle as they were not hatching yet. I smugly showed him the photo, insisting it was a baby sea turtle. It was not. It was a fresh water terrapin. With horror, I realized that I had not only NOT saved a sea turtle from the sea gulls, I had chucked a fresh water baby to his death. The kind man told me terrapin like sea water too and so I had not killed it. He showed me the very obvious (now) claws on the photo of the front legs of my turtle. Sea turtles have flippers, not claws on toes. How could I have missed that, stupido?

But this time I was not going to be fooled. Iwasn't even going to stop.
"You can't fool me this time!" I shouted to God, who finds it humorous at times to mess with my complacency.
I rode by, but then circled back. Even a baby terrapin was worth a picture.
I knew baby sea turtles only cross the sand at night. By day, their dark bodies against the light sand would be instantly snatched up by the flocks of hungry sea birds. Still, I didn't see terrapin often either.

I parked my bike and walked over. The turtle's little eyes were closed. It seemed to be dead. And then I saw them.... on those front feet were not clawed toes, but flippers. and the back legs ended in paddle like appendages. This was not a terrapin. This was a sea turtle... a baby sea turtle, but alas, a dead one.

I gently picked him up and he began squirming furiously. He was alive!
"You crazy turtle!" I squawked, "What were you doing sleeping in on the most important day of your life? You were supposed to hit the ocean hours ago! I am not sure you understand the significance of your endangered status. Look, I think it might not be legal, but I am helping you along. I will get you into the water, but from that point on, it is up to you."

I walked him the few feet short of the surf he had almost managed on his own, and gently placed him in the tide as it whooshed back. He began paddling, the tide carried him back in, but then he ducked under a wave and was beyond the first few pounding surf lines.

As the speck disappeared into the ocean I called out, "And be careful! There are alligators in these waters!"

I smiled as I headed off in the peace of a blossoming day. I had been certain there could be no more glorious joys awaiting me. God had redeemed the sorrow of the past in so many ways....what a tender and loving message for him to send to me now.

There are times I think memory loss could be a blessing- to be able to forget all the awful things we have said and done.... but God shows me constantly a better way- the way of redemption, and even promises that all those years that were squandered in foolishness will be returned to me in inexplicable eternity.

"Swim baby swim!" I called to my turtle as he paddled to his home.

Joel 2:25 (New International Version)

²⁵ "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—

Always Something....

The car was all packed, the dogs seatbelted in place for their ride to their Doggy Vacation Isle, all my forms for the big Double Header this coming week (Matt's graduation and DI Globals) neatly collated and stacked and carefully placed in chronological order in my zip case, when the first of the inevitable "always something" happened.

"The snake doesn't work," said Asherel, reading a last email before we shot out the door.
My bones turned to slime and I oozed to the floor.
The snake is a pivotal character in our DI Skit and I don't want to spoil any secrets right before Globals, but he does some amazing things when he works. Which now, he doesn't. We had sent the giant snake off to another team member's house for safekeeping and transport to Globals since my van is full and also waylaid first at a UVa graduation. Giant snakes are not invited. It didn't matter that our day was chock full.... we had to fix the snake. We made some hurried arrangements with the family to return with duct tape and ingenuity after dropping the dogs.

When we saw our beloved dog guru, I asked how she was was and she was not fine. Dogs were everywhere and one had apparently spent much of the day peeing on her floor. The house smelled and looked great to me, but as you may have surmised from past posts, my standards leave much to be desired.
"I don't get paid," she said, and added something along the lines of there was always something horrible happening.
I handed her my check,"Yes you do!"
"No, I don't , this goes right to the vet."

We hurried home after our dogs were escorted to their rooms and served champagne and sirloin bones, to the giant malfunctioning snake. None of the things that were supposed to work on the snake were working. And this was just after being transported a half mile. What would happen over the 4 hour drive to Knoxville? He might be a giant wombat by the time he arrived!

But Asherel and team went to work and 2 hours later, the snake worked.... sort of. They hope with more duct tape and repairs and fairy dust in Knoxville, they will get him up to full working order. We wrapped him in a giant sleeping bag so that only his fangs showed, and that we tied closed. He looked like Little Red Riding Python.

So, relieved that dogs were settled, snake was working, and I was almost all packed and ready, we sighed a huge sigh and walked into the barkless house. All was still and quiet. If I squinted, it looked clean.....except.... what was that on the floor?

I know you all are thinking that God in His infinite wisdom and desire to shower me with blessing left me the other diamond earring, the pair to the mysterious one I found a couple of days ago. If I were God, that would be the happy ending of this story. But, it may surprise you to learn, I am not God, and that was not to be the happy ending of this story. On the floor was a tooth. A large molar. That is really bad enough, but it was not a whole tooth. It was half a tooth. That means half a tooth remained dangling, likely throbbing, perhaps infecting in someone's mouth. I ran my tongue over my molars.

"Asherel, do you have all your teeth?"
"Last I checked."
"Check again."

I emailed our doggy concierge. It is highly likely that one of our dogs has half a tooth. If your vet feels he needs to have it pulled, let us know.

And I remembered her prophetic statement, "It all goes to the vet."
We don't operate a dog rescue so our pay doesn't all go to the vet...though more than I would like does indeed go that route. But it goes to doctors, and dentists, and roofers, and repairmen, and curriculum developers, and Lowes Depot for giant snake construction..... All money is used for is redistribution. None of us are really "paid".... we are all just momentary holding pens, some more momentary than others. And there is always something to be upset about.... always.

I begin to see more and more why James in the Bible admonishes us to "count it all joy when we encounter trials...."
I think there are many reasons for this, but not the least of it is that much of life is trial... and if you don't count it joy, joy might be hard to find. In the final accounting, the joyful life is probably not the one who only found diamonds, but the one who found broken teeth and still smiled.

James 1:2-3
²Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.

PS- blogs may be few or even absent over the next many days while we attend graduation and DI globals.

Petals Falling Away

It is a rainy morning. Matt heads back today to finish out his undergraduate career. As I was looking for an artwork for today's blog, I thought this picture looks just like how I feel. Putting on a sunny face but really, feeling droopy with petals slowly drifting off.

I guess we all feel that way sometimes, wanting to lift a perfect and joyful blooming visage to the world, but not quite having all it takes to do so. I also like how the picture shows that there are a bunch of other sad sunflowers, some in even worse shape propping each other up. They can't prevent the petals from falling, or browning, but they can help the tender stalk remain up right, at least for a while. I am quite sure it is not what I was consciously thinking when I painted the picture, but I am also sure God knew someday I would need to look at it and find comfort.

I love sunflowers. Once, when Asherel was still very young and I was pulling her in a little cart behind my bicycle, we spotted a whole stand of sunflowers in a field. It was a vacant field, and the sunflowers were wild- maybe leftovers from some ancient farmer. I went and dug a few stalks, roots and all, and piled them in the cart beside Asherel. We then biked home, with my baby surrounded by 5 foot tall sunflowers waving in the wind. Lots of people honked and waved. It is not every day you see sunflowers out for a bikeride.

So rain and the gloom of worries may be sitting beside me, but I have visions of biking sunflowers dancing in my head. Even if petals are flying off, it is a glorious ride.

Psalm 30:11
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy

Count it All Joy

A pervasive lesson in our homeschool, usually in the form of strong admonition, is that Asherel joyfully and willingly and completely obey and do what she is told. I have to constantly remind her that "partial obedience is NOT obedience", and "grudging compliance is not compliance."

Over and over again until I am blue in the tongue from all its wagging, I remind and beg that she endure the trials of school with joy, and contentment, and excellence. Lesson after lesson, story after story, I try to convict her lovely spirit that you reap what you sow, you get what you put in, you cast your net and gather the fish.
This morning, as in all mornings, I said, "Now I would like you to do your math."
This morning, as in all mornings, her jaw dropped open and her face registered horror as though I had just asked her to behead her dog.
This morning, as in all mornings, I then said,"Immediately and willingly, please."
But this morning she responded, "Oh I AM willing! Actually, my eyes were bulging with happiness."

I love the book of James, which I will paraphrase here:
Hey dude, if you dare call yourself a believer then why are you sitting back and so selfishly just trying to grab all the cookies in life? Life is tough, and it isn't about you, turkey. If you claim to love God, then do what He tells you. Love others, do good, and do it without complaining. I will be sending you alot of curve balls, and I don't expect you to just be standing around waiting for the pitch you like. Get in there and swing for all you are worth, and prove that you trust me. That is the only way to win the game.

So it may have been in jest, but I consider it progress, and my eyes are also bulging with happiness.