Night Reaping

     loving this song lately....

                                
Last evening while we were eating supper, a monstrous combine pulled into our driveway.sorry, didn't get a picture!
The late, wet summer was pushing harvest into it's last minutes. 
Even ever patient hubby was beginning to wonder if the soybeans would dry in time to harvest and still get spring wheat seeds into the soil.

A warm. windy weekend and forecasts of imminent cold, were just what the fields needed to be ready for reaping.

The purposeful roar of machinery in the fields around our house lulled us to sleep.
                                                    

 When we woke this morning rain had fallen on the newly planted, wheat fields.

                                                 

At the eleventh hour gathering and planting had all taken place. 
The reaper had come to gather the harvest. 

 I bow my head to the Giver, who in due time will come to one day, to gather together His loved people here on earthly fields; working and waiting for Him.

                                        

Spilling Sunshine In Spite Of Sorrow

I love when morning sunlight bathes every room in it's radiance.
                               

                                          
   
                                        

                     

                      

                                   

                                 

          although the weather was lovely today, it was marred by 
another senseless and tragic event in the news. 

It is all quite terrifying if allowed to dwell on the evil lurking so close.....then I remember....

                                                                            
                                 via      pinterest

Blessings where ever you are....I have been meditating on this verse....
So glad that He will NEVER forsake us.

A Gardener's Muse

one of my favorite quotes on gardening got me to thinking and rambling a little....  
                

   "One of the greatest mistakes you can make as a gardener,
                     is to think that you are in charge."

Gardening and parenting can be deceptive. I guess when you consider that Eve was deceived in a garden, it makes sense.
What I am referring to though is the notion that we deserve the credit. (or the blame)
Yes I understand we plant, water, weed, prune. 
Gardeners are always on the look out for ways and ideas that would better the end result.
 We spend hours perusing the perfect plants and ultimate design.                                  But we can never solely predict the outcome. There is far too much we don't know.
There is far too much we can not control.
There is soil conditions and droughts and torrential down pours. 
Sometimes we are simply baffled, because it would seem we have tried everything.

With our children we teach, correct,train, pray.
We dedicate ourselves to this awe inspiring work. One that ultimately ends up teaching us more than we feel we taught them.
Our children are our "flowers"and we want the best blooms possible.
Our children grow up, they are faced with life's challenges and choices.
We understand that their sphere of influence has shifted away from us for a time.
We have learned there is much we can not control.
                                                 

                                          
Then we remember that we are not in charge.We are merely the tools in a far greater design and plan.
When we grasp this there is a deeper reverie for gardens, and in our hearts a wiser understanding.
                                                         

                                                               
                                       last evenings rainbow...

Convoluted Christmas

a few reminiscings' of yesterdays ice storm here...

                                               

  That morning we woke up to darkness. Dark cold that seeps into your bones. The world outside was distorted and devastated. Broken and shattered, bowed down.

I stand here at the window looking at a traumatized, ice covered world outside. 
I am sad for the loss of our beautiful trees. For the shade and ambiance so ruthlessly destroyed. 

                                  hubby checking out the demise 
Then I remember they are just trees. We have a home, we have all we need.
But I still mourn a little. After all it is Christmas and this does not seem like a very appropriate  scene.
Then I ponder the alternative,  what actually could be more fitting then destruction?
When did the world need Christmas more than now? When did it ever need the Light of Christmas more than now?

                                  enshrouded evergreens

I trudge outside with my camera wanting to somehow capture the scene around me.
I know it's impossible to fully describe  the quietness of the land.
 The stark beauty in the devastation.
Here a reminder so strong how we need the Hope that Christmas brings.
The believing in the magnitude of something greater than our own understanding.

The new tree  I planted in the fall is bowed right down low.
Bowed over with bated breath, heavy, waiting and full; expecting a miracle.

                                          

Feeling thankful here tonight. After a busy day, happy to host some friends who were "in the dark still." Knowing there is still many waiting....

              the candle here in the middle of my table keeps on flickering.....


                                Merry Christmas!
                                    to you.....
                                  love, Lucy~

Reasonable Angst

There are two things that evoke a measure of anxiety that range in close proximity with one another. One is getting my hair colored (or highlighted in my case), the other is paint. 
Standing at the paint counter and sitting in that chair and realising there is no turning back. This is it baby.

Both require trust in the abilities of somebody else who I do not really know, and who really knows very little about me.

It's funny really because I generally have a pretty clear picture in my head of what I am after. Why is it then, or is it because of this, that I could regale you with at least a few instances of my complete and utter shock at how my hair or my room turned out.

Are we idealists our own worst enemies? Do we create our quandaries or do they create us?

On to painting my room last week. Finally after agonising over which colour to paint this large, rectangle of a rec room in our basement. 
Don't get me wrong I am glad for the space! But let's just say it has some rather weird  unique features. One cinder block, two mirrors inserted into them, and three a lot of colour happening with stencilling and fireplace plunked in the centre.

My usually creative painter side of me was feeling uninspired about a colour.
 I ended up asking someone who works in the field as she was conveniently here one day to pick up her children. She advised me on a colour that everyone loves and looks great everywhere.

         before... it was green... for almost twelve years! time for a change...

 Finally with a vision in front of me my paintbrush got pep. I rolled and brushed confidant that the stark white of this colour would somehow transform into a soothing hue.(it really was a beautiful colour on the sample, but for some reason on my wall it vanished:)
                            

After  a day's labour and verdicts from my family that weren't helping to boost my waning enthusiasm. I decided this shade was not working at all, figuring I had nothing to lose I took matters into my own hands and began dumping some brown and some turquoise into the can. Eventually I had a colour I felt I could live with and I tackled my project anew, which included scraping the paint off of the mirrors which I had covered up. ( I discovered I rather like the quirkiness  of them and the way they add sparkle.)

As I was doing all this painting I had a lot of time to think and ponder and I couldn't help but rejoice in the fact that unlike we humans who second guess ourselves and continually mess up our lives with the wrong colour. 
our God has a plan for us from the beginning. He created us and knows us better than we know ourselves and even though we don't always get the colour right,  His grace reaches us there and He is not offended at our admitting of our mistake.
When we acknowledge that His design of our lives is always right we can live, embracing the color around us.

He knows we are like that wall; which is likely to get another colour someday.

That continual work in progress, that continual striving of finding the right shade.
                                 after...a bluish gray I think...

 Some walls take longer and are a lot more work than others but when the paint brush is  put away, we can admire the way the colours compliment each other, and look forward to a potentially clean slate.
 We can move forward knowing that as long as we are here on this temporal abode; paint and hair colour are never permanent.

Instant Access

       

                                   



God ,Thank-you that when I call on you
You never say you're too busy.

You are never distracted and unable to hear me.
You don't say' what was that?'
I can't believe you'd ask me that!

You are there.
You hear every prayer on my lips.

Once!! The very first time!

It's that simple and that complex.

Thank-you, your daughter.


          It really 'hit me' today when I was praying just what a beautiful blessing
                         our direct line to heaven is.

 

 

 

 

 

81.shopping with daughter,82.visiting neighbour recovering from a bad horse accident, 83.that time heals,84.opportunity to share faith through the crisis,85,lovely fall leaves,86.canning the last beets from the garden,87.girl untangling yarn 88.girl knitting,89.nourishing muffins,(carrot pineapple)
90.books that make me ponder.