Tumbling Waters

Today I walked through the melting snow in the pasture just below the house. The sound of birds and tumbling water filled the air. The snow is melting, and since the ground is frozen, it runs off into gushing streams through the low areas. Pastures have turned into rushing riverbeds. The cats, who have been curled up in their warm boxes and window wells, were climbing trees and frolicking. It is not likely that winter will be gone this early in the year; March is yet to come with biting, damp winds and icy storms, but today we dance with all of creation, celebrating what promises to come.


Normally a small spring is the head of a meandering creek
that winds its way through this pasture. Today it is fast
moving, broad and dangerous.

Thoughts from my Big Green Chair

We are alone in this world, are we not? We find friends, but it is rare if we are able to keep them throughout our lives. We marry, but we find that we are more different than we imagined. Our children grow and move out into their lives. At times we feel comfortable with our companionship; many times we realize that we are not filled—except by Him who comes along side and calls us by name…

John 10:3 “The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.” NIV

Blessings.

Aslan has not been well. Here he found a spot on top the stove mitts to rest.

Getting the Day Started

A bluebird house stands empty

The power is on. We have not heard what brought the lines down, but it is possible that it was a result of the ice. On the scanner this morning we have heard many car accidents reported. The schools in the area are running late.

I’ve been trying to get my mind to wrap around next year’s school plans, and I must say it has been a lot like shaking hands with an octopus. After much consideration I have decided to give my youngest a year of government and economics in 7th grade. This is an area of interest to him, and at this time in his life, he is considering pursuing this in college. In 8th grade we will return to history. I have not really started getting our literature selections ready—I suppose I will be reading and contemplating that all summer long. When the children were young, I did less preparation and more 1-on-1. Now that the children are older, I do more preparation and spend less time in class with them. It balances out.

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May I offer you a taste of A Sand County Almanac by quoting from it again? This made me smile!

“Getting up too early is a vice habitual in horned owls, stars, geese, and freight trains. Some hunters acquire it from geese, and some coffee pots from hunters. It is strange that of all the multitude of creatures who must rise in the morning at some time, only these few should have discovered the most pleasant and least useful time for doing it.

Orion must have been the original mentor of the too-early company, for it is he who signals for too-early rising. It is time when Orion has passed west of the zenith about as far as one should lead a teal.

Early risers feel at ease with each other, perhaps because, unlike those who sleep late, they are given to understatement of their own achievements. Orion, the most widely traveled, says literally nothing. The coffee pot, from its first soft gurgle, underclaims the virtues of what simmers within. The owl, in his trisyllabic commentary, plays down the story of the night’s murders. The goose on the bar, rising briefly to a point of order in some inaudible anserine debate lets fall no hint that he speaks with the authority of all the far hills and the sea.

The freight, I admit, is hardly reticent about his own importance, yet even he has a kind of modesty: his eye is single to his own noisy business, and he never comes roaring into somebody else’s camp. I feel a deep security in this single-mindedness of freight trains.”

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Thoughts from my Big Green Chair

During our family devotions, we have been reading Isaiah. This is a book full of warnings and threats, promises and hopes. Many of the Old Testament passages that we read during Advent come from this book. Today we were reading a chapter that included the depiction of the wrath of God on those people who rise up against him contrasted by the blessings that the people of God who have chosen to do what is good will receive. The blessings of God’s people come in more ways than one—some are those that we receive here, today; others are blessings that we will have in eternity. At times they are for a specific people and time in history. Other gifts are given freely to all who will receive them. I believe, however, that all the gifts and the blessings in the scriptures are meant to comfort us, to show us who this God who we follow really is, to give us the strength to carry on.

Isaiah 33:20-22 “Instead you will see Jerusalem at peace. It will be a place where God is worshiped. It will be a city quiet and unmoved. The glorious Lord will be to us as a wide river of protection. He will be a river no enemy can cross. For the Lord is our Judge. He is our Lawgiver and our King. He will care for us and save us.” From The Bible for Children

This is my God.

Blessings.

Look at those ears! Citrus is showing me disapproval at his ear mite med.

Good Morning

Our electricity is out this morning. Rather than taking the time to write up a long post using my computer battery, I'll wait until the lights come on. It's been icing outside, so perhaps a tree has come down on the line somewhere. Have a wonderful day! Jean

Anniversary

My church

My church is celebrating our 150th anniversary this year. Ours is a small country church that was built by Norwegians. For many years my children were the “youth group” of the church—a majority of the members are retired. I remember my daughter telling me once that we had attended a different church when we moved here in hopes of finding friends for the children, but in this church, “everyone is our friend.” It was like my children suddenly had a dozen extra grandparents!

We are getting a choir together to sing a couple of songs at Easter. Today we practiced the hymn that will be our theme song for this year—appropriate in many ways. This is one of my favorites--it is sung with men and women standing shoulder-to-shoulder declaring their faith. In my memories I can hear the deep base of the men and the echoes of strong voices reverberating off the walls of the churches I have attended, sung with the gusto that comes from a faith in one who can lead us through all of life's paths. I thought I’d print out the words for you and link you to the melody in case it is new.

Built on a Rock

Built on a rock the Church shall stand,
Even when steeples are falling;
Crumbled have spires in every land,
Bells still are chiming and calling—
Calling the young and old to rest,
Calling the souls of those distressed,
Longing for life everlasting.

Not in our temples made with hands
God, the Almighty, is dwelling;
High in the heav’ns his temple stands,
All earthly temples excelling.
Yet he who dwells in heav’n above
Deigns to abide with us in love,
Making our bodies his temple.

We are God’s House of living stones,
Built for his own habitation;
He fills our hearts, his humble thrones,
Granting us life and salvation.
Were two or three to seek his face,
He in their midst would show his grace,
Blessings upon them bestowing.

Yet in this house, an early frame,
Jesus the children is blessing;
Hither we come to praise his name,
Faith in our Savior confessing.
Jesus to us his Spirit sent,
Making with us his covenant,
Granting his children the kingdom.

Through all the passing years, O Lord,
Grant that, when church bells are ringing,
Many may come to hear God’s word
Where he this promise is bringing:
I know my own, my own know me;
You, not the world, my face shall see;
My peace I leave with you. Amen.

-----Text: Nikolai F.S. Grundig; tr. Carl Doving

Snowflake contentedly rides on JM's shoulder 

Tracks along the Fencerow

It has been getting above freezing the last few days and the snow is melting. I walked yesterday, and since the snow is not so deep, I headed through the cornfield and walked along the fencerow. I wish I could have captured the smell of the air for you—it had the flavor of spring. Warm sunshine on melting snow, twittering birds on busy wings, and small prints on fields of white were all there to be enjoyed.

I came across a pile of brush and grasses at one spot in the fencerow. Some small animal had left his trail all around it. I wondered whose home it was—the prints were not fresh and the snow had melting some leaving them hard to read. They were about the size of a cat’s—a weasel, perhaps? I don’t think it belonged to a skunk, a possum, or a raccoon. Someone has a winter den inside.


Prints leading to a winter home

Just beyond that pile of brush, I found a sunken trail left by, no doubt, some small rodent—a mouse tunnel under the snow that had started to cave in when the melting began. They have been going back and forth between their cozy home and their storage houses for their winter nourishment, I’d guess.


Underground tunnels?