Trees....

I love trees.

I love them in cemeteries. 

I love them by themselves.

I love them covered in snow. 

I love them when they grow in bunches.

I love them with no leaves, the bones revealing a beauty much deeper than when adorned.

I love it when they bloom

I love it when the petals shower down

I love them when they have their new little baby leaves peeking out

I love them when they are in full leaf

I love them when they turn

And I love the music they make when they fall.

Even after that I love the sounds they make scooting down the street.

Most of all I love the way they look from the inside.

They make a secret space where all you can hear is the wind and maybe some birds.

Sounds float up from below.

Everything looks different at that remove, perspective can be regained.

Sometimes the leaves sing to you.

Sometimes they busily rustle amongst themselves, seemingly talking to each other, intent on unknown purposes.

Sometimes they sigh and moan.

Always they stand watch, ever vigilant, mute witnesses to whatever comes.

Sometimes they whisper to you, sweet nothings like the noises your mother made to you as an infant.  You don't have to understand the language to know you're in the presence of an older, wiser, nurturing love.  A presence that has seen many things, and endured all.

Sometimes, on lazy days, they make no noise at all, instead bowing their heads, and listening to the music of the raindrops skipping down, down, down,
 and falling to the earth with a splash,
 content to rest,
 sheltering small beings,
 who also rest,
within their steadfast branches.

The cadence of the drops soon turns into a blanket, covering all with a quiet,
rhythmic lull.

A time out.

  A time out of time.

The whole world stills.

As a child I spent a lot of time up trees.

As a mother I often wished I could just climb a tree, attaining a little space for myself to breathe while at the same time keeping an eye (or at least an ear) on my children playing below.

Having the best of both worlds.

I always imagined that would be what it was like to be God.

I still am happiest there.

Not that it happens often anymore, but when it does.........

Ah

Awe

Peace

  Quiet

  Perspective

Strength

Rest

Connection

Resolve

My Patriot Friend....

If you love America and grew up with the idea that the civil rights movement was fighting to make everyone equal, without regard to skin color, gender or religion, welcome.  You will like it here.

If you also find yourself wondering about 1/2 the time if all this is really happening or if it might be a bad dream and how everything (I mean every. single. thing.) got so upside-down and whether we can ever recover balance, I feel your pain.

But it's really happening.

If you long for a day when the best qualified person got the job and one's sex life was not a proper subject for conversation, let alone a call from the POTUS ( "they ain't what they used to be", I think that was Jed Clampett in my head again), I think we will have to work very hard if we are to ever see those days again.  

I know that's crazy.

If you wonder what happened to bring us here, you have quite a bit of work to do.  But it's worth it.

It's enough to make you think those earnest civil rights' workers' got hijacked by evil forces.  You might want to follow that thought and do some research.  Wink, wink.

If you are tongue tied when you try to express some of this, here's a blog by a Patriot Friend of mine you should check out and probably follow. He says it so much better than I do and he makes me feel not only less lonely, but like there are still some adults around.  Also that someday they might be in charge again!

It might save your sanity.  It has mine.

You might not feel better, but you will not feel so alone, I can promise you that.  And you will probably laugh too!

Keep our country, our military and of course Israel in your prayers.  

Your prayers to God.  

Do I need to say that?!!!??

The Faith of a Child....

Do you remember the movie The Santa Claus, with Tim Allen?  It was my favorite Santa Clause movie of all time.  What I loved about it was that anything that had to do with Santa Clause just happened.  It was magic.  Whether you believed it or not, whether you tried to figure out how it could be, none of this mattered at all.  It just happened.  It was magic.  You could count on it even if you could not for the life of you figure out "how" or "why".  You had to move with it and deal with it anyway, because it was going to happen, due to it being magic.
It was a great lesson in faith, to me.  When it comes to God, and faith, it doesn't matter whether you believe it or not, or whether you can figure out the "how" or the "why".  It just happens.  Because it's God.  Faith is counting on it anyway.
It is nothing more than having the faith of a child, which we have all mastered by the time we are a year old.  Why do we have to make it more complicated than that?  That would just be a waste of time.
"For one who believes, no explanation is necessary.  For one who does not believe, no explanation is adequate."  Who said that?  I forget, but it's still the truth anyway.
Children just believe, without worrying about the details.  We should take a lesson from them.
For me, wi-fi is a good example of this.  To me, it's just magic.  I cannot for the life of me figure out how it works, but it does.  It's just like magic to me.
Here is a recent slice of an evening spent with my favorite "widdle big kid", Abigail Lea, that brought this all back to me.

Abigail and I outside looking at the moon.  
Our voices floating down the street, where I hope we are not disturbing those already in bed. 
 Looking at the moon.

I mention how amazing the universe is and how God made it all.

Which brings her to a question that has been rolling around in her head for awhile.

"Hey, where is God at?  He has to be somewhere...."

*skips a straight line where the driveway meets the lawn, leans down and looks inside the jonquil leaves, alternately bringing her hands up like a pirouette,  then swinging them down so that one brushes along the leaves of the jonquils, feet moving continuously, landing daintily, coming down so assuredly, dancing a straight line that leaves me amazed*

"He's everywhere, all the time," I reply.

"Is He here?  In front of me?  I can't see him."

*Waves her hands in the air,as if she can conjure up God in front of her, (perhaps she can).  Looks down, ruffles the jonquil leaves, looks up, spins around, stops because we are at the end of the drive, turns around looking at the sky.  Giggles.*

"Of course not, silly, He's not a human, like us, He's a spirit, you have to feel him in your heart.  Can't you feel how much He loves you?"

*She closes her eyes, lifts her arms up over head, and says "Yes!  I can!  He loves me more than the moon and the stars!"

The same as her mother and I.  Go figure.

*starts the skip back, now with the other hand brushing the jonquil leaves, dancing all the way.  I can almost hear the angel wings around us. She is a sprite dancing, 

a fairy flitting,

 perfectly magic, 

all things good and pure, 

happy, beloved, safe*

We stop at the end of the porch.  She turns around, waves.

"Good night, moon, good night, stars."

She dances ahead, leading me, her faithful companion, in for the night.

We have our routines.

  It's time for bed, and (more) prayers.

Right before she drifts off to sleep, though yawns, she assures me that of all little girls who have loved me, she loves me best, and always will.

I tell her that's just how God loves us, always.