Tag Archive: beauty


Taking a Minute

After a busy twelve hour shift, while collecting my things, I saw the wife of one of my patients sitting by herself in a small waiting room. Her husband had had a long surgery. I’m sure the day and the wait hadn’t been easy on the lady.

I took a minute and asked her how she was. We chatted for a moment, and then I told her, “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re a very handsome woman.” That morning, as I’d been helping her husband, I’d noticed her. She’s not exactly pretty. She’s not classically beautiful, but she’s hardly some unattractive hag. She’s solidly full of life. Handsome suits her.

Her whole expression brightened. I kinda think I made her day, and I know she helped make mine. She definitely took my words as a compliment, and she told me that she hardly ever hears compliments about her appearance. The lady then thanked me several times. I didn’t really do anything. I just told her the kind truth, and it made me happy to be able to share it with her.

Many Forms

Blue skies, gentle breezes, green pasture, sunlight splashing off white backs onto grey coats as the flock of mommas with their little lambs went scudding across the grass together, all in a wild, ungainly rush of floppy wool – priceless!

Beauty comes in so many forms.

Clothing the Grass

Quiet. It was the first thing I noticed after I stepped out of the door, an uncanny, unusual stillness. It was as though the world about me was holding its breath. Nothing moved. The chickens were huddled silently inside the coop. The cats were nowhere to be seen. The sheep, thanks to the obscuring fog, couldn’t see me and therefore didn’t bleat. Perhaps a wild bird or two made a swift dart from branch to ground and back again, but even they were restrained and noiseless. The cold, damp and heavy, bit to the bone. Nothing, no matter how thickly furred or feathered, wanted to stay out in it.

It is winter, chill and white, and despite its bitterness, it does possess a beauty. It’s a world at rest, on hold, waiting for spring in its green frenzy, but for now, quiet, even… magical. The fog and the cold make of this place a winter wonderland. Together, they have slowly frosted every surface. It’s almost an organic process, the slow partnership of frigid mists. Everything freezes, and bit by bit, tiny crystals of ice collect at the extremities. Leaves, blackberry thorns, spider webs, spikes of grass, etc. – they are ever so delicately begemmed about their edges. Days have passed here. Each day has seen the icing a bit more pronounced, a bit more crowning, a bit more elaboration on an already stunning theme.

It is so beautiful – the silence, the frost, the green hinting beneath the ice – that it makes me stop and catch my breath. I don’t love the cold, but I do appreciate the charm and delight of the moment. It’s a good time to stop and consider the lilies, to appreciate how marvellously “God clothes the grass of the field.”

Thanksgiving – Already?

It’s hard to believe that another year is nearly gone, Christmas is almost here again, and Thanksgiving is this week. Where does the time go? It went into all kinds of things, for some of which I’m even grateful! Please note: this list is hardly exhaustive.

  • physical therapy – I started the year with appointments, had several months off, and now I’m back with more
  • bathroom floor – mine needed replacing. It was definitely a learning process, but I’m happy with the result!
  • Jacob graduated from college with honors.
  • Jacob and Elizabeth moved to WA. I’m definitely glad to get that stinky brother of mine further away… not, but I am glad he found a job.
  • Shelah got a new job as one of Salon 124’s stylists. She does good work!
  • Stephanie was inducted to Phi Theta Kappa, just like three of her older siblings.
  • We had a tie-dye party!
  • Rach, Shelah, Stephanie, Carey, and I hung out for a day in the Sisters area. That was a lot of fun!
  • Kimbelry and Kalyn won Awana trophies!
  • Mom got new kitties. They are cute, little stinkers who think inside is great, but given that some of us are allergic to cat hair, and that nobody likes the smell of used litter box, they are having to get used to their originally intended, outdoors lifestyle.
  • Carey started grad school, is getting A’s, passed the licensing tests, and is loving student teaching.
  • Kimberly loves her swing that we put up in an oak tree.
  • Kalyn has been learning the 4H market lamb ropes.
  • The chickens are (mostly) staying in their pen, thanks to a lot of hard work.
  • When I look out of my window, rather than seeing a nasty amalgamation of mud, weeds, trash, and chicken mess (it bore a resemblance to a neglected dump – yuck, yuck), I see Kimberly’s swing, Kalyn’s fort, and a lawn coming up. It’s AMAZING! Not only is it looking good, it feels good, especially because it was a group effort. Let me share just a few examples. Mom and I earned blisters getting Kimberly’s swing up; Kalyn, Stephanie, and I had fun times learning about teamwork while trying to lash together a framework of filbert poles to make a fort; Mom, Shelah, and I got facefulls of things we don’t want think about during the chicken run remodel; Carey’s close encounter with a hornet while helping fill the woodshed I built led to a new dance craze, the Weekly Shriekly (j/k! – she did shriek and dance thanks to the pain, but we ran to help rather than imitate); Rach, who came down and spent several days in order to help, was brilliant and built a device we could drag behind the four wheeler to smooth out the lumps left by tilling; Kimberly kept us all entertained by looking up bagpipe videos on YouTube; and Stephanie did some research to find grass that grows well in shade. It was a great team effort and makes me grateful not only for the beautiful space developing, but also for my family!

Rest From All Your Enemies

Now that you’re older, have you decided yet what you want to be? 🙂

It’s early enough this Saturday morn that the chilly pastels of a winter sunrise are blushing the skies over the fir-garbed hills and ranges. It looks lovely, a morning all clean and new. I look out and I wonder how the ewes are holding up. They should be lambing any day now, but they keep getting bigger and bigger with nary a babe in sight.

I am tired. ‘Tis an early-ish morning after an early morning bedtime. Grad school for Carey has opened with a bang, and she was up until about 1am madly trying to finish today’s assignment. I was up with her being supportive – probably silly of me, but that’s what I did – and I got up this morning to make sure she had breakfast and coffee and all her loose ends before she blew out the door for her class. We’re hoping after this week things won’t be quite so hectic. The school had to adjust the schedule thanks to some conflicts, and it made for some horrible assignment due dates. That, though, would be why I am up, sipping a cup of coffee, watching the sunrise, wondering about the sheep, and writing a blog post. Bebo Norman’s Sunday is playing. The melody feels perfect this morning. Everything altogether, including the next bit I want to share with you, makes me sigh and smile. It’s a good morning.

Last weekend about this time, I wasn’t feeling so happy. In fact, I was feeling rotten and on my way to rotten-er. After a week with my back acting all kinds of friendly, I’d woken up to it complaining. I thought, “Well, maybe it’s just sore from therapy yesterday,” and in I went to work. I made it two hours and had to go home because of the pain. It was hard. Not only was I in considerable physical pain, I was disappointed and discouraged. I felt like crawling into a hole and pulling it in after myself. That mood bled off into the rest of my attitude about life, love, and other mysteries, making me quite the grumpy butt. I did try to keep my bad attitude sat upon (that’s what you do with a butt, right? Sit on it? 😉 ), but God certainly got to hear me grumble and groan and feel sorry for myself. Eventually, I thought maybe I should try to stop fussing and maybe listen, and I thought maybe I’d go take a look at Psalms. Maybe David or one of the other writers would have a gem that God would use to lift me up a bit. Psalms has a lot of refuge for the weary within it.

I never made it to Psalms. On the way there, II Samuel, for some reason, caught my eye, and I started reading about Joab murdering Abner. That’s encouraging, right? Not exactly, but I kept along with the story. David mourns Abner, Jonathan’s son Mephibosheth gets crippled, and another fellow, a son of Saul, is also killed. Wow, sunshine and posies, hey? I feel better. 😛 Hearing about other’s misfortunes doesn’t usually make me feel better about my own, but I kept reading. David is anointed king, he beats up the Philistines, and David brings the ark of the Lord to his city, with a death, rejoicing, and grief from his wife. Apparently, her criticism was unwise, for the text records that she died a barren woman, never having had children. I’m sure there all sorts of good lessons to be learned from that, but that wasn’t what I needed.

What I needed I got from the very next verse. I saw a beautiful phrase. “The king lived in his house and the Lord [gave] him rest from all his surrounding enemies.” Doesn’t that remind you of Psalm 23? Let me give a quick paraphrase of it.”The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want! He leads me and restores my soul. Even in the presence of my enemies, I am anointed and will fear no evil. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life!” II Samuel 7:8b – 11a goes on to say this:

‘Thus says the LORD of hosts, I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, that you should be prince[b] over my people Israel. 9 And I have been with you wherever you went and have cut off all your enemies from before you. And I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. 10 And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may dwell in their own place and be disturbed no more. And violent men shall afflict them no more, as formerly, 11 from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel. And I will give you rest from all your enemies.

I was fed. Grounded. Connected. The psalms of David, the shepherd king, are beautiful. I’ve found great encouragement for my own faith within them, but for myself, I sometimes grasp them for their isolated beauty and truth and comfort. I want them to stand there alone while I bask in leading and restoration and anointing and goodness and mercy. Sometimes, that’s probably fine, to stand there for a moment and inhale their sweet perfume and let that bit of truth salve my soul. Sometimes, that’s just what I need to hear. But sometimes, I don’t need the summary. I don’t need the isolation. I need the journey. I need to see the man walking. I need to see his enemies, his mourning, his anointing, his celebrating. I need to see that his wife argued with him and how he answered her. I need to see that he does have a messy life. I need to see David being encouraged and God speaking to him, even through others. The passage I pasted in was delivered to David by Nathan the prophet. In some ways, that, more than anything else, encourages me. How often does it happen that someone comes along and reminds me of Who God is and what He’s done for me and that He’s not finished yet? It’s not usually a “thus says the Lord” sort of event, but encouragement from others around me is common enough to be normal. I am not alone. We are not alone. We walk together, and God is with us, in our stories and in our psalms, giving us rest from all our enemies.

May your day  be blessed!