Gems for His Crown!

The other evening we were treated to a beautiful double rainbow in the sky.  It was seen all over the county, from east to west, north to south.  The pages of Facebook posters were full of their version of this rare and inspiring sight!  A rainbow.  A double rainbow.  Just another sign of God's loving Hand and promise to us, His creation. 

I took lots of  pictures of that colorful arc in the sky before it faded.  It had continued to rain in short light showers as the sun grew brighter in the west.  I went around to the opposite side of the porch and stopped in wonder and amazement.  The entire field of uncut hay was alive with brilliant shining gems, diamonds of precious raindrops shining in the last light of day.

And I remembered a favorite hymn of mine.  It talks about Jesus gathering the gems for His Crown among those of us who live for Him.  "Bright gems for His Crown."  I thought "How perfect this scene is!".  I took several shots to show the sparkling lights dancing on the waving grass and leaves of trees as they swayed in the wind.  They were moving to heavenly music.  Aren't there just some times when God takes your breath away?  He surely did that evening. 

A double rainbow.....and glittering jewels, fit for a King. 

Thank You God. 

Angel

If you look very closely you will see a figure in the clouds of this sunset.  I remember Andy calling to me a few evenings ago.  Come quick and bring your camera...catch this perfect sunset. And so I did.  I dutifully checked the setting and aimed and clicked. 
The next day I was downloading the pictures from the camera.  When I came to these, I looked ...... and looked again.  What was that I saw?  A face...there in the clouds...looking down, gazing below.  An angel...the perfect profile of a heavenly figure.
Now, don't be too quick to consign me to the ranks of those who 'think' or 'know' that they understand what they see when they find something like this.  I am first to wonder, and question, Are you sure?  Looks like an ordinary tree or shadow or passing rainstorm cloud to me!  Call me a skeptic.  For that is what I am.  Or usually.....
But this was a straight-in-your-face scene.  How could I have missed it?...this figure bending down and looking over my favorite hills.
Rumor has it that a protective power is present in this area.  A benevolent spirit dwells in these parts.  Was this a visual sign sent to me?  Doubter that I am, I wondered.
And then, yesterday, I found out that one of my dear friends had passed away the night of the sunset.  And then I understood.  I see the face in the cloud.  I see an angel looking down in love...in tenderness.....bidding her earthly home good-bye. 
Love and peace to this angel gone ahead.
I love you Doris.  God Speed.  And we will meet again.

An all-around porch.....

This is my afternoon/evening view from my "all around the house" porch.  This is one of the features of my house that I love.  A porch around all four sides.  We debated whether we wanted a north and south porch, east and west porch, just one, two or three.  But, considering the fact that the view is spectacular any way you look up on this hill, we chose option A. 

And I am glad we did.  We are slowly getting acquainted with all the things this porch will do.  It will hold many people who come for a wedding in September.  It will stand firm during ice and snow and steady wind from the north.  It will be our dining room on silky soft days in May and June.  It will allow itself to be draped with drying clothes hung on a line stretched from post to post.  It is a gathering place for late evening musing.  It is the sacred, hallowed space where morning sun shines and brightens my first prayer.  And in the hush of midnight its secret shadows speak of stars and moon and whirling planets, an ancient tale of unknown worlds and dreams.

It is my refuge.  It is my solace.  It is my place.

That's what friends are for.....

How blessed am I to live in the Ozarks!  It isn't as if I never had friends when I lived in other parts of the country.  But true friendship takes on a whole new meaning when people you hardly know gather together and give you a hand when you need it.  Case in point is shown in the picture above.  This was our home-to-be in the Irish Wilderness just about 40 years ago this coming summer.  I was pregnant.  Andy was trying to get the house ready for us to move in the following summer.  And we had no roof.  But our Wilderness neighbors, without us even hinting that we needed help, arrived on the scene one fine Saturday morning and started to work.  The ladies brought dinner and the men brought their ladders and nails and know-how.  Before nightfall there was a fine roof on our house and we were well on our way to making a home to live in.   When I struggled to find words to thank these people for what they had done for us, this is what they said. That's what friends are for....
Over the years I have remembered that very first act of kindness that was given to us in that tight-knit community.  And here in Gainesville I can see the same spirit alive and well.  In a few weeks we will have the Relay for Life.  This past year has seen all sorts of fundraisers for sick babies and their parents, neighbors suffering from awful illnesses, families torn and battered by life-gone-wrong.  We are together here in the world.  For better or for worse.  And somehow we will make it work out.  Because that's what friends are for.

May Days

As I was traveling this week I spied a church sign that read May is God's Apology for February.

And I said to myself, "Indeed!"

May in the Ozarks.  It can be fickle, as any time during the change of seasons can be.  One day you shiver and pile on the extra sweater or coat.  The next you are sweltering in eighty degree weather that threatens to give you heat stroke.

May is the month we love.  Early mornings bring us sunrises that blind you with golden beams outlining each dew-tipped blade of grass.  Mist rises from the river valley like smoke from dampened fires.  Birds greet the day with  trilling songs to call their mates to nest and bower. 

At noon we seek the cooler shadows down under the trees.  Moist earth crumbles in your fingers as you test the garden plot.  Do I dare put out my tender plants now?  Will frost some night creep up and bite the budding flowers on tomato and cucumber?  Can I bear the heartache of planting again?  And again?

Early evening brings the promise of rain.  We need it badly now.  We listen to the weather forecast and try to plan for the next day or two.

And the mowing.  Always the mowing.  Just as soon as you cut the grass it hops up again, twice as thick and three times as tall. 

I'll not complain.  Spring has returned with green hills and swaying grass, lovely mornings and spectacular sunsets. 

May is here.  Thank You God.

Easter 1946

This is a picture of me on my first Easter.  My brother Paul is there beside me in his fashionable beret.  I have noticed that many times when we had our pictures taken Paul got to wear this particular hat.  I have no idea why.  Maybe it was the hat all the kids wore when they were three going on four, like Paul.  I know there is a picture of me when I was around three wearing the self-same hat.  Waste not, want not.

But back to Easter.  I can see that Paul has a basket with some eggs in it.  By looking at it closely I know exactly what basket that is.  It was given to my family by our friends, Joe and Maxine Lord.  It had been handed down in their family from a relative and I guess my mom admired it so we got it.  I have it now.  For many years it sat in tarnished splendor on the back of the sideboard in our dining room.  Neglected and only brought out when we needed something to put Christmas greenery in or an appropriate decoration for Easter or some other holiday.  It was never polished as long as I remembered it.  And it ended up with a few dents and dings over its long life.

A few years ago I inherited it along with a lot of other left-overs from my family's long career of saving everything that crossed their path.   I had it re-plated, the dings smoothed out and now it sits on my dining room table on various occasions with Christmas decorations or Easter eggs or leaves at Thanksgiving.  But it is polished and when not in use, I put it away where it will not be bumped and battered.

You may wonder why I have strayed from my theme of Easter 1946.  I guess this picture brought to mind just how precious things become to us over time.  I wouldn't trade my memories of Easter gatherings and fun and frolic for anything.  And seeing my brother Paul, now gone for seven years, and me sitting in relative harmony, amidst the iris on a cool Easter morning makes me smile and remember those happy days.

Happy and blessed Easter to all of you.  May you make many happy memories to cherish for a long, long time. 

At last...spring?

This morning was anything but spring-like.  Cold frost clung to the grass and we scraped ice from the car windows before we bundled ourselves off to church. My trusty winter coat felt good when I faced the frigid breeze as I walked across the parking lot and in the door.

This afternoon when lunch was over we went on our usual Sunday stroll around the pasture and woods to check out what was happening.  It is amazing what a few hours of sun and light breeze from the south can do.  For the past couple of days the wind has had a distinctly winter bite to it, cold and icy with a touch of malice.  It was as if Mother Nature were sneering at us and saying, "I'll show you what I think of your hopes for spring and green grass and flowers !"

But this afternoon her smile was gentle and the wind that blew was soft and full of promises.  Could it be?  Did we dare hope?  The nearly an inch of rain had softened the ground and we could see the very beginnings of flower buds pushing up through the dry and crinkled leaves.  If you looked closely you could almost see the ground moving around the life pushing up from below,  like one of those time lapse photos of flowers with petals unfolding in a matter of seconds.

And the birds.  The meadow larks were the only birds singing a few days ago.  But suddenly they were joined by other voices.  Nesting songs.  Songs of greeting. 'Hello, how have you been?  It's been quite a winter hasn't it?'

The baby minnows were frisking around in the little pond.  Penny bugs hop-scotched across the rippling surface. Nearby a gray squirrel ran for cover with a nut in his mouth. 

We have lived out here on the hilltop since September.  We have seen fall turn into winter.  We have lived through our first winter.  And now winter is turning into spring.

Somehow, my cautious heart warns me  not to be too quick to welcome the new season.  'Anything can happen in April', they say.

And I say, bring it on.  Because, I do believe, that spring is here to stay.