Messages of Love

My husband has a knack for picking out the best cards, whether for my birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas, whatever. Usually the card has a visual element that makes it special--a die cut heart or a small handmade collage or my favorite colors. What I like best are the handwritten notes that he adds at the bottom. My first Mother's Day card from him remains a favorite because he wrote a sentence or two about why he thinks I'm a good mother. I really needed to hear that from him then as we were learning how to be newlyweds with a five-year-old in the house.

Through the years, my daughter has given me many notes to treasure as well. One that she made in art camp as a kindergartner rests in the stand-up file tray on my desk. It's a pastel picture of a sunset across the sea, complete with a desert isle and a palm tree. In the colorful sky, she wrote: "Mama, you take good care of me!"

When I get a note that's meaningful, I keep it out or keep it accessible so I can pull it out whenever I want to see it. Re-reading those messages of love or encouragement lifts my spirits again. It's just for a moment, but a life of beauty is made up of little moments of beauty. And I want as many of those moments as possible.

The Word

The beauty of the written Word. Familiar, well-loved scripture filled with metaphors that become richer every year. Here are two of my favorite poetry passages:

"You turned my wailing into dancing; 

you removed my sackcloth and 

clothed me with joy, 

that my heart may sing to you and 

not be silent. 

O Lord my God, I will give you 

thanks forever" (Psalm 30:11-12).

"He tends his flock like a shepherd;

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart;

he gently leads those that have young" (Isaiah 40:11).

This week, reread your favorite passage--for the beauty of it.

Music That Inspires

I'm listening to Handel's Messiah. I don't usually listen to music when I'm writing because I'm easily distracted. I like to sing, hum, and even dance sometimes, and I don't get much work done. I've been singing along to Messiah, though, and boy, are those soprano notes high! I can still hit them but occasionally it sounds like...well, it sounds like shrieking. When my dog's ears start twitching, I stop.

I can hardly keep from singing, though. The music is gorgeous and so familiar--my concert choir sang the Christmas portion of Messiah every year in high school. To me, that was the highlight of the season.

So why am I listening to Christmas music when it's only September? I'm writing an article and Handel's genius is inspiring me. I should be working on that article right now but I wanted to take a minute to ask you this: What music inspires you? Do you have a favorite piece from your past that you haven't listened to lately? Pull it out and turn it up. See where it takes you. And leave a comment later.

Oh, "For Unto Us a Child is Born" just came on! I've got to go. Enjoy the beauty of music today.

Looking for Beauty

I love this quote:

"Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing." Camille Pissaro

This week, look for beauty in humble places and then please leave a comment about what you find. I would love to know about it.

Rain

Our area has struggled from the lack of rain these past few years. The drought has been severe. This year, however, we've had just enough rainfall to allow us to water our flowers every other day (and it could be much worse.) One day last week, I forgot about watering, and the petunias looked as thought they would never make it back to their former glory.

This week, Tropical Storm Fay has sent us quite a bit of rain. It has fallen steadily for two days. On Monday, my daughter and I made a quick trip to the grocery store. As we pulled into the parking lot, the clouds opened up. We dug around inside the car for umbrellas. So armed, we stepped out of the car and sloshed into the biggest puddle I've ever seen. The water washed over my flip flops, soaking my feet and making it difficult to walk without slipping. I was grateful for the rain but grumpy to be paddling in it.

Earlier in the summer, my softball team stepped onto the field with heavy gray clouds overhead. Soon, a few spatters became a steady fall. Three outs later, we huddled in the dugout and surprisingly, I felt cold. A hot summer evening mixed with enough rain for a good soaking and a gentle breeze on top of that made for one chilly third baseman. I was grateful for the rain but glad when the game finally ended.

Although rain can be dangerous and costly--as our neighbors to the south are experiencing with Fay--still I love the sound of it, whether a gentle shower or rushing downpour. And the smell, too--fresh and clean. But what I love most of all is what it leaves behind: grass greener than before, lush plants and colorful flowers. And water to sustain our lives too. 

Oranges are Orange

I dislike going to the grocery store. I do. I either put it off until we're out of everything but pickles and a three-year-old can of cream of chicken soup, or I zip in for 15 minutes, filling my cart with whatever I can grab in that amount of time. Sometimes I wait until after school so my daughter has to go with me. Having her company makes it more enjoyable (although she doesn't like it much either).

All that said, my favorite area at the grocery store is the produce department. All those fruits and vegetables--all those possibilities. But even more so, all those colors! Wow. It's a feast for the eyes when I allow myself to step back and take it all in--before rushing away to the breakfast or coffee aisle.

What if we lived in a world with no color? What if oranges were, well, not orange? What if lemons were gray, apples were white, green peppers were black? Yuck. Surely they would taste as bland as they looked.

I'm grateful that creation is filled with color. I'm grateful that my family loves color, too, and our home is filled with it. And I'm grateful that oranges are orange, after all.

The Beauty of the Cross

On a grassy hill approaching a nearby mountain town is a message of faith to all who pass by. Since springtime, the owner of the land has consistently cut the grass in the shape of a cross. Every time I visit this town, the grass inside the cross has grown taller and therefore more visible. It's a huge cross, but if you're in a hurry or not paying attention, you could still miss it.

When I drove by last week, I glanced up to look at it and almost drove off the road. Not only was the grassy cross there but it was filled with dwarf sunflowers--hundreds of them. The cheery yellow flowers and the deep green grass made the cross a stunning roadside show. It made me think of creativity (this time, with a lawn mower and some seeds), summer beauty, new life, resurrection, and a dear friend who loves sunflowers best of all.