Saints Everyone

 The rain ended just in time for the party to begin!
A lovely Saturday evening in the company of old friends
from a former ministry.
 Dave grilled the burgers...
Class chairman, Rick, his wife, and a stellar committee
planned a most enjoyable experience.
Carry-in food was delightful, and I tasted endive for (I believe) the first time.
 I was introduced to the card game, Wizard.
 We sang some old songs,
heard testimonies of God's goodness to many of the group members,
 and then my father gave the devotions based on Psalm 32:7.
God is our Hiding Place - including the example of Noah and the ark
(the ark being Noah's hiding place).
Just as the evening was coming to an end, 
a rainbow appeared outside the shelter...
like the smile of God on this group of dear friends.  
Saints everyone!

♪ We're the people of God, 
called by His name 
Called from the dark and delivered from shame
 One holy race, saints everyone 
Because of the blood of Christ Jesus, the Son ♪
(Wayne Watson)

Two Men and a Backseat Driver

It was Sunday afternoon, and to break up our table game routine,
we looked up the Barn Quilt Tour description from the Archbold (OH) Sesquicentennial celebration
and set off--
Two Men and a Backseat Driver!

These are six of the ten barns/quilts on the tour.
Our outing included stopping to see a small herd of longhorn cattle,
waiting for a train,
and a few dead ends.
We returned to play a couple more games
and enjoy a lunch of Indiana cantaloupe, a variety of baby tomatoes,
and curried chicken salad in croissants. 
It was a relaxing way to spend Sunday afternoon and evening.

Functional. Enduring.
Strong. Silent.
Decorated now.
Kissed with simple beauty.
Like royalty.

A Painful Process

a corner in our bedroom...
I'm an advocate of reading; inspired books helped me get out of my muddled-head, like opened windows to the sea. 
-  Patsy Clairmont
Read two old books for every new one. - J.I. Packer

We're busy downsizing, consolidating, organizing and decluttering in preparation for a small remodeling project 
(adding closets to make a general room into a bedroom).
Part of the process means a paring down of the book collection.
It is painful!  
This morning I worked on these shelves.
I came up with one box of books to donate to a local thrift store.
In the process, I found several old, inspired books to re-read...
treasures from Nouwen, Lindbergh, and Stoddard, for example.
The two taller shelves here hold (maybe) 1/5 of our books.
 Note the smaller shelf hugging the wall
and stack of books on the shelf under the lamp.
I'm about halfway through the sorting.
~Did I already say it's a painful process?~

Numbering My Days

Psalm 90:12  Teach us to number our days carefully 
so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts. (Holman Christian Standard Version) 
For many years, I've been journaling in this format
in journals purchased at Barnes and Noble.  This one has larger squares than previous ones.
(I prefer the smaller ones.)
As I open the journal, I write on the right side.  
When I get to the end, I flip it over and write on the right again!
I've been dating entries as shown here from this morning.
Date, time, a cross representing my commitment to Jesus,
and an arrow which indicates moving forward.
(Sometimes, I write in a specific goal I'm aiming for
at the arrow's point.)
Today I scribed: "82". 
I'm numbering my days!
Following a doctor appointment 82 days ago,
I recommitted to a lifestyle/food plan that had served me well in the past.
It is doing so today.
The International Standard Version translates Psalm 90:12 this way: 
 ...teach us to keep account of our days so we may develop inner wisdom. 
I'm learning.
I'm keeping account.
I'm numbering my days.
My goal is to develop inner wisdom.
He is teaching me.

The Many Faces of Beauty

The sudden appearance of Resurrection Lilies....
multiple cards with expressions of encouragement and sympathy...
a poem by a new friend...
and a Sunday sky full of clouds of every variety.
These are the faces of beauty that blessed me this week
as we siblings shared special times with our father following 
our mother's home-going.
I am SO blessed.

 Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. 
He has planted eternity in the human heart, 
but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end.
Ecclesiastes 3:11


We "do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope." I Thessalonians 4:13
August 1, 2016
Quietly she left us.
Her breathing slowed
and tapered in its depth
until it was no more.
We watched in awe.
It was a holy moment.
Our joy in her release from 
the prison of her deteriorated mind and helpless body
well balances the sadness of realizing 
her physical presence is no longer with us.

The More...The More

Her nails, strong and beautiful. 
Apparently not unlike her heart that continues to beat this afternoon. 
 (And hopefully, not unlike our faith in God's wisdom, loving-kindness and sovereignty...)
The more her self-care diminished,
her sense deserted her,
her speech failed her…
the more helpless 
she becomes,
the more I think I understand her.
How is that possible?
(Or IS it?)
“No,” they tell me
by their silence and 
careful, well-intentioned statements of sympathy. 
I suspect they are correct.

Infinite Possibiities

"But at least it made one realize that life still held infinite possibilities for change."

My kind of book, this one...
Descriptive, well-developed characters, bloodless, believable and gentle.
An old book by an author suggested by one whose taste in books 
runs in the same channels as my own.
Its last line, quoted above, is an example of many
sweet, memorable ones scattered throughout the story.
The title is a reference to the four main characters,
all of whom are in the autumn years of life.
I have another Barbara Pym book lying by my chair ready to be read--
Excellent Women.

Just a "Few"...

Just "a few" photos from our days with our children and grands
in St. Louis.


That's all, folks.

Bonus Hour

A clean washrag
warmed with water
gently laid on her eye
(matted by disuse and time)
softened and removed
the obstruction.
both eyes sprang open
fixing their sight on my face;
holding my eyes
by their power.
A bonus hour
(rare and unheralded)
replete with emotions,
wordless communication,
and irrepressible joy.
As quiet the hour’s coming
was its ending;
its afterglow
timelessly pulsating
in my heart.
        7/16/2016 - rlg

Writing a Song a Week #3

Writing a Song a Week #3
♪ I wait for the Lord; my soul waits and in his word I hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning ♪ (Psalm 130:5-6)