“A dinner of herbs with love is better than a stalled ox and hatred therewith” . I’m loving this reading this morning. Love filling the hearts of our little families nurtures them far more than the external blessings we can give them. Especially if hatred has a place at our tables. Maybe it’s not directed at our children or significant others. Maybe it’s to the neighbours. Our coworkers. Our employees. The leaders of the land. Hatred in any form hurts our families. Maybe we could say, “Let’s be Real.” Since when is a negative perspective on someone or something more real than finding the positive in them? Since when is ugly usually right? Could we not say beauty and goodness is most usually right? Positivity and Optimism creates Resilience in our Families. Sends them into the world expecting good things even from the hard experiences.
Let’s remember the conversations around our tables are as important as the offerings on the table. This has chastened my heart this morning.
Visualization is Powerful. Imagination a wonderful tool to Heal. To Renew our Strength. Our Gratitude. Our Passion for Life. As I Pondered Life this Morning, here are a few of my Pretty Pictures….
…blue gingham dresses on little girls, sweet ringlets gleaming in the summer sun
…strawberries ripening on the vine, little white blossoms with their sunny yellow centers. blonde sawdust lying between the garden rows, sending its woody fragrance into the summer air.
….the quiet rhythmic lap of the lake on its shores. a sailboat drifting gently by. the snap of it’s sails in the warm breeze.
…farmer’s market wares and the wonderful aroma of homemade bread. gorgeous vine ripened tomato sauce in mason jars with the basil leaf pressed to the glass.
…homemade lemonade with a mint leaf garnish in a gold rimmed glass gifted to you from a little Slovakian watchmaker.
…early morning window shopping with my doggie Charlie. the french linen shop. the flower shop owner busy making cut bouquets on her wooden table.
Some of these are my present real life things I get to enjoy. Some are memories of the past. Some are the wonderful gifts I see in others lives on social media. I love my own gifts. I also love witnessing the gifts of others. It reminds me of how teeming with blessings this wonderful life is. So thanks for sharing with me.
…..the village would be clean. This saying has been reverberating in my heart and mind all afternoon. I can see my little girl self with my braids and plaid skirt looking up at a picture hanging on my grandparents wall in the entry. The little scene was of a woman. Sweeping her doorstep in the cutest little village. At the bottom of the painting was the inscription…
If each before their own door swept the village would be clean.
Our little patch of dirt. That little doorstep. That’s our responsibility. No need to tsk tsk the neighbours garbage that may be piled up. Most signs of neglect come because someone is sick. Overwhelmed. Sad. Hopeless.
So let’s look after our little patch of dirt. If your neighbour’s step is in a little need of love, take your small straw broom and sweep your neighbours step. Don’t complain to the other neighbours. Don’t draw attention to others lack. Just silently and gently sweep the dirt away.
Thanks to all those who have swept my step when I couldn’t .
As I busy myself making rhubarb lemonade for my daughter’s Helen’s bridal shower, I have some classic country music streaming in. Memories flood in on little butterfly wings as the songs I heard my Grampa sing in his rocking chair. Slapping his knee along with his deep baritone. Other songs that have played today I’ve heard my beautiful auntie Verilynn sing and Uncle Don. It feels like such a gift as I head into these next beautiful days with my daughter. Yesterday on the way to get some thrift store vases for the flowers, I saw a vehicle my dad used to drive and melted into tears. These moments you wish they all could be here. My darling grammie Helen with her rosy apple cheeks. My dad with his quiet grace. I look at my daughter Helen and see so much of her great grandmother in her and it makes my heart smile.
I love the intertwining of the generations at times like these. The sweet memories that life enfolds us in. So grateful that others have given me so many beautiful moments in this Journey of Life.
One thing that isn’t habitable is a war torn country. When your safety is challenged every day, the citizens can’t be fully engaged in their lives and their families. The privileges that were theirs before the war become frivolous. They no longer matter. All they dream of is Peace. Safety. Without it, we have nothing.
We live in Canada. It’s a Safe Country. Do we treasure our Peace? Are we every day adding to that Harmony? How about our Families? How safe are our children in our home to be themselves? Do they feel unconditionally loved? Do they feel peace? If they don’t, consider this…..
Unsafe is an Unhabitable Environment. Let’s be Safe for Others.
Sometimes the last word of my prayer is the most powerful for me. Amen. Amen means “So be it.” Those are powerful world straightening words. They turn it all up side right. My fairy heart niece sent me a quote that said, “Treat the hand of cards you were dealt like you chose them.” Amen. If we believe in a Master Planner, which I personally do, we will rejoice at our cards in our hand. Maybe they look stacked against you. They’re not. Others say it’s a losing hand. Not a chance. You’re going to learn how to make it a winning hand. Through the help of the Great Counsellor. It may take you on a journey you never envisioned. Amen. When I was a young girl, I gave my life to a Master Planner. I gave up control. I said, “tho crags and tangles cross it, praise God I will go on..” Sometimes we meet the crags and tangles. But I trust my Guide. He’s allowed to test my resolve. My love. My trust. He also said I can lean. Nestle. Sing. These aren’t my deck of cards. They’re God’s deck of cards. I’m excited to see how my hand plays out. Maybe it won’t always feel nice. But I trust His wisdom. Amen. So be it.
I don’t know about you, but I lost my connection to my soul for many years. When I was a child I knew how to feed my soul. I laid amongst flowers. I dug holes with my dog all afternoon. I built sand castles. Most of all, I talked to God. My serotonin fix came from breathing salt air, running barefoot. I ran. I hopped. I skipped. My bathing suit was olive green. I remember Aubrey in Barbados giving me my first swimming lesson. I was probably three.
About bathing suits….
When I was a child, the beach was my home. As the sun peaked it’s pretty happy head above the horizon, my little pink toes were hitting the deck. Swimsuit. Check. Towel. Check. Adults. Sleeping. Uncheck. The smooth stones of Grand Lake made a shaky wobbly welcome as my small feet tried to find foothold as I slipped and shuddered my way along to the inky darkness of the lake. The morning rays of the sun glinting like little diamond sailboats along the surface. The call of the loon so lovely echoing in the morning air. My throat constricts as I recall these precious moments.
My toes gingerly would sink into the frothy shore of the lake. Testing the water, my youthful back would arch backwards as the cool bite of the water would send a chill up my spine. Causing little goosebumps on my brown summer skin. A smile would break over my youthful face. Ahh, morning swims. The towel with it’s broad stripes would be abandoned by the shore. Usually in childish neglect, the edges being licked by the water. Taking a few quick leaps, my body would splash into the waves, my bottom would find a resting place in the the silky sand. Little minnows would flit away from my happy body. I would tilt my body backwards, and my young feet would poke out of the water like happy buoys bobbing along on the waves.
I spend time lately remembering. So I can get back there. When I became a teenager, so much changed for me. The lake became about looking cute in a bathing suit. Agonizing about perceived flaws. That awful plague of irrational ugly thinking stole joys from me for too many years.
No more.
Today, I run. I skip. I hop. I lay in meadows. I talk to God. I have left Adulthood behind. I’m returning to Innocence.
b l a c k l i l y 