Contrasts

I accidentally posted the story

behind this photo on my other blog.
I'm too exasperated/impatient to repeat it here.

Suffice it to say,
THIS day was quite a contrast to the Pony Parade experience!
Contrasts are what make life interesting.
Routines are what keep it sane.
I do life best with a balance of both.
At MY stage of life, I'm finding it takes more routines
to balance the contrasts....

Pony Parade 2019

 Here's our Saturday (last) in photos - no particular order...

 The sky was fair,

 temperatures perfect

for simple, country fun.

 The local feed and grain company

sponsors an annual Pony Parade.

 We try not to miss the noon meal benefiting a community

ministry to handicapped individuals.

 Homemade ice cream (churn powered by a REAL horse)

 an auction of donated items and baked goods,

 and plenty of camaraderie

 and plain old fun attract folks of all ages.

 It is extra special to have shared the event the last three years

with my dad who lives with us.

It's quite the colorful and charming experience!

Keeping up with Church

The following poem chronicles a 70+ year old woman's 

adventure in keeping up with church in 2019.

"Follow us now!

We'll tell you how.

Get our app.

It's a snap.  

Tell your friends."

(It never ends.)

"Visit the store.

Buy some more.

We're on live!

Come and jive.

Podcasts too,

with Who's Who!

And giving is easy."

(Stop.  I'm dizzy.) 

9/13/2019

rlg

on John 2:4

Our neighbor contributed this ball to our flower bed!

"My hour has not yet come."

His words oft puzzle me

until I meet disappointment 

or look on wistfully...

While others find their pleasures now,

I trust His perfect timing.

My preconceived ideas of pleasure

He's gently redefining.

I still don't know completely--

in this life never will!

But I am waiting, hoping, trusting,

and willing to be still.

(Written this morning after postponing an anticipated "pleasure")

I Respond...

"Go home and love your family,"

These words from Saint and Mother.

The world still scrambles frantically--

It's peace is sadly smothered.

Activity's a faulty substitute

For actual, lasting peace.

Go home then.  Love more simply

By presence, word, and deed.

(rlg, for Feast Day of Saint Teresa, 2019)

Another Poem

Tickets, kiosks, Podcasts, brands, On-line giving, stages, bands. "Church," some call it But in my heart I think the horse Is behind the cart. (rlg)

Changed

Changed the light bulbs,

changed the room;

changed the seasonings,

changed the taste;

changed the routine,

changed the day;

changed the translation,

changed my comprehension;

changed my attitude,

changed my emotions;

changed my diet,

changed my health.

Yesterday and Today

Raindrops were my company--

too many to count.

For a full hour they buffered me

from a crowd of people

who would note my physical absence or presence

but never the "me" inside.

...

This morning as I reflect on this situation,

I realize my absence is my cry

to be known;

to be loved;

to belong.

...

It also became abundantly clear to me

that I am 70 years old

and embarrassed to be so 

insecure and immature.  

SIGH.

Should I be surprised that quite randomly
(or perhaps NOT so randomly)

this cartoon appeared on my Facebook page?

Way Less Whizzing

Yesterday I pulled over

to take this photo out of the

car window...

Then this morning,

this post on Karen Mains'

Facebook page about a
field of sunflowers she saw...

Every year when I pass this field, whizzing by as I drive, I think, “Oh, how beautiful!”  This year as I whizzed past, I stopped, parked the car, then walked back to get a closer look.  It’s amazing, isn’t it, what we don’t see as we are whizzing along.  In fact, as I age, I whiz less and see more.  Something about getting to that place where there is no time—only space and light enough to really see.  No whizzing at all!

I've noticed myself!

WAY less whizzing for me!

The "Juices" are Flowing

 A brief visit yesterday to Barnes and Noble got my creative

juices flowing.

Today I sewed rod pockets

in these light curtain panels.

They SHOULD have been

hanging all summer

but I'll enjoy them into autumn.

And, can you see the yard art here?  Three pieces created by my husband and father

have found their place in the sun!

Words Are Inadequate

"Installed the (kitchen) fan," 

she wrote on her journal page.

Then she realized the words didn't begin to capture

the experience--

the dismantling of the old;

the unpacking of the new;

spreading out the instructions

ready for reading;

the tools;

the ladder;

the patient assembler;

the helpful hands of elderly father;

the assembly of parts;

connecting of wires;

steps to the breaker box in the garage;

the return to flip on the switch...

And lights!

And the cool breeze of the fan! 

Yes.

Words ARE inadequate to express or explain much of ANYthing,

she concluded.

the Strong Strand of Silence

Effortlessly, my ears separate the strands

of night-time sounds--

the buzzing of the creek-side frog choir,

the occasional whir of a car motor

and its tires playing the pavement,

the staccato of horseshoes doing the same,

soft music from an open window

or distant fire pit,

and, binding it all together,

the strong strand of silence.

Beautiful, all-supporting, strong,

reassuring, comforting silence.

Louder than all the others.

Teamwork!

The Beauty of Maturity

There's a mature beauty around here.

Our flower beds are crowded with aged plants,

strong and confident in their displays.

I recognize their strength and confidence

and pray for it in my life

as I navigate my later years.

 

"My Genesee"

 

A dear friend died recently.

He was a poet.

It was my privilege to type out a bookful of his handwritten poems.

A few days after he died, I promised myself to honor him by honing my own, feeble poetic inclinations.

Below is today's attempt to respond to the book that lies at my bedside.  The writings of Henri Nouwen continue to be a source of spiritual challenge and inspiration to me...

from my journal page

First I Read; Then I Write

By God's great power
All things were made;
His purposes they serve.
Jer'miah's task? To clearly speak
God's warnings and His words.

Nebuchadnezzar, God's servant too,
"Until his time was up".
And we today God's purpose serve
And drink from that same cup.

False prophets still are many.
Liars all they be.
So hear God's word, submit, and live.
Be still. And wait. And see.
(8/16/2019, Jeremiah 27-28)

It's Not Just Tomatoes!

The bigger they get, the more creative (and desperate) 

my husband gets to support 'em!

I think that's kind of

how it is with projects,

organizations, extended family, 

events, and numerous other things.  

It's not just tomatoes!

The Master Cropper

Photo taken on the way home from prayer meeting last night...

 from the back seat

of moving car

through dirty windows.

Cropped to cut out

unattractive car parts.

Life lessons:

Keep your eyes on the beauty.

Don't wait for perfect conditions to pursue the goal.

The imperfect (man-made power lines) adds interest to the big picture.

My Heavenly Father is the Master Cropper!  Able to make masterpieces out of unlikely subjects.

A Purge Surge

Ever simplifying, I gained momentum in the Purge Department yesterday!
Adopting the challenge to jump start* my efforts, I went to the shelves that held an accumulation of vintage fabrics.  I posted them on a Facebook site, and by evening they were gone!
Likewise with a trayful of miniature and mismatched pieces of tea sets.

*I enthusiastically endorse the method of getting rid of 100 items gathered in a 30 minute "Purge Splurge"!