Morning Walk

How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Psalm 104: 24

As I walked through the woods and by the pond this morning, I was once again reminded that the wonder of God's creation surrounds us everywhere, and that we can find extraordinary beauty in the midst of our ordinary days. The simplest things are often those which are the most beautiful! I marveled at the reflection of the sky mirrored in the pond and again in a creek bed sprinkled with colorful leaves, a pure white flower peeking out from among spindly stalked weeds, the precise aerial and landing skills of Canadian geese, and how the brilliance of golden leaves illuminates the woods even when the sun isn't shining. Just ordinary things we don't often think about, yet extraordinarily beautiful; beauty only seen when we choose to slow down and soak up the wonders of God's amazing world.

Autumn Memories

Autumn was her favorite season of the year. It’s also the time of year when I miss her the most. It’s the season when old memories are awakened with the rustling of fall leaves.

I approach the old farmhouse, so familiar, yet so foreign. Now empty and abandoned, it has never been the same without her. It was her presence that brought life to the old farmhouse and made it warm and inviting. I glance up, almost expecting to see her smiling face looking out the kitchen window. Instead, I am greeted only by multihued leaves dancing across the yard, proclaiming the arrival of fall. My mind is filled with recollections of flowers swaying about dressed in the finest shades of yellow, orange, and crimson red. I can almost see her kneeling there by the flower beds, garden trowel in hand, sweet look of contentment on her face.

I recall plump orange pumpkins lining the steps that seemed to beckon visitors to stop in for homemade pumpkin pie and gingerbread. Various gourds, pumpkins, and cornstalks always decorated the yard. Somehow, it never resembled the yards I saw in Better Homes and Gardens or Southern Living magazine. Our yard was a place to have fun. Leaves weren’t something to be raked, gathered up, hauled away or burned. They were something you raked up and jumped in while she laughed and took pictures with her old Kodak camera.

I can almost smell the delicious scents that seemed to be carried along with the crisp fall breeze. Aromas from her kitchen signaled autumn’s arrival just as sure as the changing leaves and the falling temperatures. There always seemed to be an abundance of apples and pumpkins at harvest time. Visitors were often enticed into her kitchen by the smell of fresh baked apple pies that lined the farmhouse table. Pumpkins from the garden were turned into cinnamon-spiced pumpkin pies. Melt-in-your mouth pumpkin bread awaited us on chilly evenings. Homemade stews and soups simmered on the stove all day, ushering us in from evening barn chores.

I recall treasured memories of afternoons spent with her in the kitchen learning to bake. Too small to reach the top of the table, I stood on a stool while she patiently taught me to bake my first batch of brownies. It never seemed to matter if the flour was spilled on the floor and the table a mess. For some reason, her housework never seemed to be very important either. She always had time to stop whatever she was doing to spend time with us kids. Memories surface of getting off the school bus and seeing her waiting in the doorway, always smiling and happy to see us. Homemade cookies, still warm from the oven, often sat on the old farmhouse table seeming to welcome us home after a long day at school. She always made time to listen to our silly school stories. Secrets were safely kept within the confines of the old stone farmhouse walls.

Life itself seemed to revolve around that old farmhouse table at times. Many home cooked meals were served there, but it was much more than just a place to eat. It held the old Singer sewing machine on days when mending needed done. It was the place where clothes were cut out and sewed, poems were written, scrapbooks were made, photos were pasted in photo albums, board games were played, and laundry was folded. It was the place where newborn babies were placed on thick soft towels and received their daily sponge bath. No expensive or designer décor ever graced the old farmhouse table. It always displayed a homemade centerpiece. We would help her gather brightly colored fall leaves each year. These were placed neatly on a tray and surrounded by miniature gourds, Indian corn, and tiny pumpkins. She never found the need for anything expensive or fancy. She was content with her faith in God, being there for dad and us kids, and taking care of the old farmhouse.

Staring at the abandoned house, the golden leaves dancing beneath my feet seem to be in tune with the bittersweet emotions racing through my mind. It seems like yesterday I was a little girl jumping in the leaves. I was the little girl standing at the table baking pumpkin pies and brownies. Childhood seemed like an eternity then, and death was a distant thought; something that happened to old people. She was the constant presence in our lives; the one you could count on…the one who I thought would always be there.

As sure as the arrival of autumn seems to freshly awaken old memories each year, it also induces new seasons of life. Those carefree childhood days with mom by my side seem so recent, yet so distant. I’ve since grown up and have watched my own four children grow up. Now my grandchildren are the little ones standing by my side. I can only pray that one day the memories I leave for my children and grandchildren will be as sweet as the ones mom left behind for me; memories that might once again be awakened by the rustling of fall leaves.

Bird Brained

Even the stork in the sky knows her appointed seasons, and the dove, the swift, and the thrush observe the time of their migration. But my people do not know the requirements of the Lord. Jeremiah 8: 7

The birds are starting to migrate south for the winter. It seems like only yesterday when I was excited over their arrival in the spring. Now, summer has faded into fall, and I’ve noticed fewer hummingbirds at my feeders over the past few weeks. I love fall, but I always miss the hummingbirds when they leave.

My Bible reading this morning was quite timely, since I was thinking about the fall migration of the birds. As I read Jeremiah 8:7, I pondered with delight the fact that God mentions the dove, the swift, the thrush, and the stork in His word to make a powerful statement about obedience. We can learn a few things from the birds! Everyone has probably heard the expression “bird brained” used in a derogatory way to mean someone unintelligent who, like a bird, has a small brain. I am quite amused by the verse in Jeremiah stating how the birds know the time of their migration, but God’s people don’t know the requirements of the Lord.

The people in Jeremiah’s time kept turning away from God. They were heading in the wrong direction, sinking deeper and deeper into sinful living. Instead of “flying” God’s way, they continued on their own, ignoring God, doing things their way.We see this happening all around us today, and many of us, myself included, do it our way more often than we care to admit. We make excuses for not obeying God’s word. One of the most popular excuses is: Times are different now, so we can’t really _____ (fill in the blank). We always seem to find reasons to excuse sinful behavior, perhaps blaming it on someone or something else. The medical community often comes up with a new “psychological condition” for sinful behavior. None of our excuses will hold up when we stand before God. God’s word does not change, and God does not change. His word is still truth whether or not we choose to see it as truth, regardless of the time we live in.

I recently listened to a sermon on the radio, and the speaker stated that the popular song “I Did It My Way” is the song they are singing in hell, because nobody in hell did it God’s way. We need to remember that. Maybe we should even take a few lessons from the birds. Perhaps we could all stand to be a little more “bird brained,” and like the birds, observe the ways of our Heavenly Father, and walk in obedience to what His requirements are.

Creative Homemaking

I have a bad case of “fall fever.” Summer is slowly fading, and I’m seeing subtle hints of autumn as the appearance of yellowing leaves peek out from among the green treetops. The woods are perfumed in their musky-sweet fall scent, awaiting their transformation into a beautiful masterpiece as the mountains come alive in splashes of golden yellow, pumpkin orange, and crimson red.

The first hints of fall and chilly mornings make me think about vegetable soup and beef stew simmering on the stove to warm the house on chilly days that are not quite cold enough yet to fire up the old wood stove. I can almost smell spicy pumpkin pie and nut-laced pumpkin bread as it cools on the kitchen counter. Apple pies, crisps, and dumplings all make their appearance in my kitchen in the fall. Gingerbread, warm from the oven, topped with dollops of whipped cream is another fall favorite at our house.

I’ve always loved fall, and it seems to bring out my domestic side more than other seasons. I especially enjoy autumn decorating. The house always looks brighter with the addition of plump pumpkins, colorful leaves, and the loudly dressed scarecrow dolls I made one fall, many seasons ago, while babies and toddlers were tucked in bed for their afternoon naps.The changing of seasons gives homemakers a chance to express their creativity. Like artists, we can use color and design to create lovely and cozy homes for our loved ones and visitors to enjoy. Whether we are single or married women, we can make our home a place where others feel welcome; a place that can be a haven of peace and rest for those wearied by the demands of the outside world.

Having a loving and inviting home does not require money or expensive decor. Simple things like colorful fall leaves in a basket for a table centerpiece, a neat and tidy room, a lit candle, a cup of tea and encouraging conversation, or a simple home cooked meal can make a home loving and inviting.

When family and guests enter our doorway, what do they see? Is our home inviting? Is Christ reflected in our home? Is it a haven of rest or a chaotic mess?

Simple Pleasures

I like washing dishes and consider it equal to a good therapy session. Few women understand my enjoyment of what some consider to be the “dreaded domestic chore,” but that’s okay. I can’t help the way I am. I come from a long line of women who enjoyed it. My mother and both grandmothers all taught me the therapeutic value and simple joy of washing dishes by hand.

Mom even thought that whatever ailed her could be cured at the kitchen sink. A homebody, she hated going to town and would always get a “town headache” (as she called them) if she had to run errands away from the farm. Upon her arrival back home, she said she would feel better if she could just get her hands in some hot soapy water and wash some dishes. It always seemed to work. Some of my earliest memories of mom are those times I stood by her side, barely able to see over the sink, helping her wash dishes. There seemed to be something peaceful about the sloshing about of the water, the pleasant aroma of the dish washing liquid, and the clinking of silverware, plates, and glasses together that provided a sense of security to me as a small child.

Grandma Mitchell was passionate about her dish washing, enjoying it so much that she rarely allowed anyone to help her, which was probably a good thing since her dish water was so hot that the average person couldn’t even touch it. Apparently, Grandma's hands were immune to the steaming hot water. I once remarked that the water was too hot, to which she replied, “Ahh! Good heavens! You have to have your water hot enough or you won’t get the dishes clean!” I can assure you her dishes were sterilized. I treasured those times I stood by her side drying dishes, almost too hot to handle, and listening to her recount stories of her childhood days. She told me that having dirty dishes meant you had a lot to be thankful for, because it meant you had plenty of food to eat.

Grandma Leasure was known for giving young brides a bit of advice regarding dish washing. She would say, “Always do up all your dishes at night so you can start the day with a fresh and clean kitchen.” She told me that there was a great sense of accomplishment in washing dishes and seeing your kitchen neat and clean. I recall her giving me that advice when I was too young to fully understand what it meant. After I became a young wife and homemaker, I found her advice to be true! There is nothing like starting out each day with a fresh and tidy kitchen, and there really is a sense of accomplishment in seeing clean dishes stacked on the dish rack.

My friend, Darlene, who is from that same generation of older women, refuses to use the dishwasher in her new house. She grew up in a home with no running water. They had to carry water from outside and heat it on the old cook stove in order to wash dishes. When she got married, she had inside plumbing for the first time in her life and was surprised at how easy it was to wash dishes with running water inside. To this day she loves to wash dishes, considers it fun, and refuses to use her dishwasher.

I have fond memories of washing dishes with my mom, grandmothers, aunts, and cousins after family meals. The time spent cleaning up was a time when the women could connect with one another. Many jokes were shared and memories were made around the kitchen sink. Holiday meals created massive amounts of dirty dishes, which gave us several hours to catch up with one another. It was usually “women only” in our kitchen. The men often would head off to the living room to watch TV or fall asleep. We never thought that was odd; it was just the way it was. Nobody complained about the men not having to help. It was accepted that clean up and washing dishes was mostly “woman’s work.” We embraced our role and looked forward to our time together. There was a bonding that took place around a pan of hot, soapy water. I remember how special I felt when I was old enough to join the women in the kitchen. It seemed to be a rite of passage into womanhood for us younger girls. Great bursts of laughter and cackling was always heard coming from the kitchen. I was delighted when I finally got to join in with the fun.

Contentment is often found in the simplest things. I wonder if joy in the simple tasks of daily living is what’s missing among women today. Hundreds of dollars are spent on antidepressant drugs, and therapists often charge over a hundred dollars for an hour-long therapy session. The strange thing is that most women are still depressed even while taking drugs and going to therapy, always needing more and more drugs and therapy. I wonder if women would once again embrace the simple pleasures of domestic life if there would be less depression and discontentment in the world today.

There truly is something therapeutic about having your hands in hot, soapy water. As the dishes soak, I feel my cares being lifted away. Washing dishes allows me to pause from the busyness of the day. It is a time I can think and reflect upon life as I gaze out the window. It’s not uncommon to see deer walk through the backyard, see the squirrels chase each other up and down trees, or see a flock of wild turkeys or Canadian geese passing through; things I would miss if I wasn’t standing at the kitchen window washing dishes.

I am thankful for the blessing of dirty dishes and for the blessing of a long line of women who taught me the value of contentment in the simple things of life. My mom and grandmothers have since passed on, but they left behind a rich legacy of memories. Memories of lessons learned, laughter shared, and priceless time spent together around the kitchen sink.

Stormy Nest

The Lord does whatever pleases him, in the heavens and on the earth, in the seas and all their depths. He makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth; he sends lightning with the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses. Psalm 135: 6-7

I woke up to the sound of thunder rumbling and lightning flashing through my bedroom window early this morning. Between the loud claps of thunder, I heard a bird singing outside in the midst of the storm, as if it was any other ordinary day.

It was quite timely this morning when my daily Bible reading passage contained Psalm 135. As the storm raged outside, I was reminded of who is in control of storms; the storms outside that rattle the windows, as well as personal "storms" of life that we all encounter from time to time. It's not a matter of if we will go through storms, but when. Nobody is immune to life's difficulties.

God allows us to go through various storms for a reason. He has a unique purpose for each of our lives and nothing happens outside of his will for us. It is never easy to face difficult situations, but if we accept each storm knowing God is in full control, we will be more likely to "sing" in the midst of those storms when they come.

Our attitude is a huge factor in how well we cope with the storms of life. Learning to accept them, and truly believing that God is in control, will enable us to walk through them much easier than if we try to fight against them. At times we won't understand why certain things happen and that is okay. We don't always have to know why. Sometimes life just doesn't make sense, and it won't make sense this side of heaven. We don't always have to have a solution to the problem. We don't always need to fix things. We only need to trust in the One who can calm the storm. I find it reassuring to realize we don't always need to figure things out and that we can rest assured that God knows what He is doing.

Contentment and peace comes when we surrender our difficult circumstances to God and trust In Him for the outcome. Then, like the bird singing in the midst of the storm this morning, we likewise can be joyful enough to sing in any circumstance, because we know the creator of the universe holds the outcome in His hands, and is working all things together for good for those who love Him.

Courted By The Most High

Sunlight flickered through the window of my home office, enticing me to put aside my work and go outside for an early morning walk. Without hesitating, I grabbed my camera and went downstairs, eager for an excuse to indulge myself in my new hobby of photography. The smell of the woods engulfed me as soon as I stepped out the door, reminding me that fall is almost here. The mountains exude a unique aroma in the fall of the year; a musky, sweet, spicy fragrance that is nearly intoxicating. Inhaling deeply, I was lured away into the woods, as if being courted by the Most High. The first light of day peeked between the towering trees creating a sunlit path for me to walk on, almost as if to woo me away from the cares of the day.

Meandering along the sunlit path, I was serenaded by charming bird songs resonating from the treetops; a captivating concert consisting of a cardinal’s song, the sweet twittering of the finches, and the pecking of a Woodpecker nearby. At times they sang solo, and at times they would join together in unison reverberating throughout the woods in heavenly harmony.

I paused to watch a butterfly dancing among the last of the summer wildflowers. Only a few yellow and orange blossoms remain on the spindly browning stems, permitting the flowers to command full attention amidst the end-of-summer foliage. The stellar performance of the butterfly dance seemed to be celebrating the beauty of the few enduring flowers.

A symphony awaited me by the side of the creek as I stopped to listen to the sound of the water trickling over the rocks, resounding forth its refreshing melody. The sun glinted through the leaves, creating a multitude of sparkling diamonds upon the surface of the water that sparkled in tune with the trickling symphony; a token of nature’s beauty.

Overcome with thankfulness for the beauty of a simple morning walk through the woods, I paused by a crooked little tree, that beheld a unique beauty of its own, to say a prayer of praise to the Most High; A prayer of gratitude to the One who blessed me with the sweet woodland fragrance, a butterfly dance, the creek’s symphony, sparkling diamonds, and a birdsong chorus. There is nothing like being courted by the Most High!

I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of your wonders. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High. Psalm 9:1-2

Monday Morning Drive: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words