Leaf on My Shoulder OR SOTC 31/365

It is well-known that summer is my favourite season. All that green, all that life, all that sunshine, all that warmth!

Still, there is beauty in every season. I have always known this, but I find my awareness of this truth heightened in the last year or so. Perhaps it comes with age. Or perhaps because, as a home owner, each season means something different for my space. Or perhaps because I'm taking more pictures. Whatever the reason, this past year, I have really noticed the seasons more, and have been trying to embrace the beauty that they bring. Still, knowing a truth, and believing it are sometimes two different things. For example, you could not have convinced me two winters ago that winter was beautiful. Aside from the bajillion inches of snowfall and lack of sunshine, there was too much going on in my own life to be happy about most of that winter. As another example, several years ago, as I was still fresh dealing with separation from my husband, autumn didn't even register.

I think the beauty we see in the seasons is heavily impacted by what else is going on in our lives. And I think, in part, it might be one of the reasons God imparted a planet in the universe that rotates around the sun such that seasons exist. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Regardless of what else is going on, these seasons happen. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. They may each look a little different from year to year, but the seasons are a constant in a world that constantly changes, in circumstances that are different from one moment to the next.

I mean, how awful would it be if the soft cherry blossoms of spring--or juicy summer berries, or the rich colours of autumn, or pristine fields of winter white--only occurred once, and it was during a challenging time of your life, and you missed it?

I think my sense of hope would dwindle.

I do think that God wants us to marvel in the beauty of each season every year, regardless of our own personal lives. The whole of creation is for His glory--we should always be acknowledging and praising that! And yet, paradoxically, I think God recognizes our brokenness. Our own human nature often gets in the way of recognizing the blessing of creation that He has given us. And so, He repeats these seasons, knowing that we may miss the amazing beauty here and there, and mercifully giving us the next season as an opportunity to praise.

...There is a leaf on my shoulder in this photograph. I didn't notice it until I uploaded the photo onto my computer. And I suppose I could have Photoshopped it out, but the leaf is evidence of leaves raked, rolled in, and tossed. I am enjoying the autumn colours, the autumn sunshine, soaking up His creation by rolling around in it a little. :)

I have a leaf on my shoulder.

Way better than a chip, I'd say.

Autumn Rich

It is five hours from Edmonton to Saskatoon, give or take pit stops. Generally, I stop once in the halfway point of Lloydminster to top up on gas, grab a sub sandwich for supper, and that is it. I have no time to waste--on the way there, I have love and cuteness waiting for me. On the way back, I want to have a few hours to chill before hitting the sack and starting the work week over again. I have never been one to waste time; and I sure as heck am not going to do so on a long, flat, prairie highway.

This drive was different.

It included a few extra stops. On purpose. And it was absolutely lovely.

I was grumbly leaving the city. I had decided to take a coworker home who would otherwise be at the mercy of public transit on a Friday afternoon. She lived right off the main freeway that I would be using to leave town; no big deal. However, in the ten extra minutes it took to drop her off, and stop off at the neighbouring library to quickly grab an audiobook (I had forgotten to load podcasts onto my phone), I hit rush hour, and was about half an hour behind by the time I got to the outskirts of E-town. Unimpressed.

Really, Lord? I do the unselfish thing, and You reward my efforts with traffic?

(Yes, I know it doesn't work quite like that, but in the moment...... and you know you've been there, too.)

I knew I wanted to make a brief extra pitstop for sunset pics, and I knew where I wanted to take those pics, and now I was going to be pushing it to get there in time. The sun drops fast, and I have learned time and time again that you can't chase a sunset.

There was construction in Lloyd and a line up at Subway, delaying my grab-and-go efforts. I just barely made it in time to the granary I had been planning for my pictures. I captured the granary in the warm orange sun, and then spied a country road leading right into the rich glow of the horizon. It afforded several pictures, including a few with a country truck puttering home from the fields. The sun dipped down a bit more, and the moment was over. I had been hoping to get a silhouette of the granary, but still--in the quiet of this rural community, I crossed the tracks back to my car, satisfied. The rush-rush feeling I'd had up to this point was gone, and I hadn't missed the colours.

Thank You.

On Sunday afternoon, I enjoyed a leisurely walk with my eldest niece along the trails lining the South Saskatchewan river. As I was taking in the fall colours--both in and out of the camera--I decided it would be nice to make a couple extra stops on the drive home and see what became of it.

Well, stops aside, the drive home was something else.

As I started west, flock after flock of birds made their way south overhead; rippling black lines of motion across the clear, blue sky. Something in the air had given these creatures the cue that this was the weekend to rise up from their lake homes and start the journey to a warm winter. But such a gentle sight.

I stopped in the Battlefords, at the top of a hill overlooking the valley. I've always driven past the turnoff, wondering what was down the road of this hill. Peace and loveliness; that's what.

Shrubs and grasses--a mix of green, yellow, brown, orange, red--speckled the hill all the way down to the valley where the North Saskatchewan River flows. The waters of this river are the same as those that passed by my own house in Edmonton just a day or two before, and it brings an odd feeling of connection.

The sun is warm. Close your eyes and you wouldn't actually know it's autumn--I should have worn flip flops today. I traipse down the trail a bit. It smells of late summer--crisping leaves and warm grass. The sound of traffic fades away fast, and all I hear are a few grasshoppers above the mild din of the hidden freeway. I snap a few pictures, but mostly I just want to stand and take it all in. It's so warm, and quiet, and lovely.

After breathing deep, and scanning the 180 degree view one more time, I make my way back to my car for the next leg of my prairie trip home.

By the time I pass Lloydminster, the sun has started an obvious descent over Alberta. There is a slight haze in the air--from experience, I know it's probably forest fire haze, though it doesn't smell like it yet. But through my sunglasses, it gives everything a warm, reddish hue as I drive. I have continued to watch flocks of birds moving south and west through the sky. In a rolling field to my right, I see two horses galloping swiftly along; in the dips of the hills, there are patches of fog settling.

I spy a small body of water and turn in--I need to be able to stand in the presence of all of this, pictures or not! As I move around the back of my car, I spy something in the water. A beaver, and I don't even think he's fully grown. I watch him a minute--his cute little face even looking in my direction--but as soon as I move to open the trunk, he swooshes down into the water--gone.

I focus on my sunset, watching three or four little beavers swimming lazily in the water as I move back and forth along the side of the road. It is significantly cooler now--a mere three hours later, and I almost need my jacket. The sun has disappeared behind the trees, and the sky has changed from yellow to orange to pink to purple in less than 15 minutes. I stand for a moment, and breathe deep again. It smells crisp and clear, and just a touch like dew.

When I am overwhelmed with God's rich glories, I find myself using the words 'humbled' and 'awash in awe' together.

Yup.

That would be this weekend; most especially my journey home. What had I been grumbling about on Friday? I have almost forgotten in all the blessing.

I return to my car and drive, wrapped in the peace and beauty of the Creator.

Amen.

28/365

I waited so long for the garden to come up. I planted the weekend before the May long, and with our late start to spring, it seemed like everything was slow to make an appearance. The potatoes and the rhubarb were fluffing out nicely early on, but in my most concerned moments as I glanced over my rectangle of dirt, I wondered if I'd have produce at all. How easily we doubt. How patient we are not.

It was after a stretch of rain in June that lasted five days, followed by some solid sunshine, that the garden exploded. Leafy and green replaced small and sparse, and--could it be--were those the start of actual vegetables? I got very excited.

The rest of the summer was a daily check to see what was ready, what was almost ready, and what needed to be tended to so it could get ready. The peas and rhubarb were ready first. Soon I was enjoying many a spinach salad with my own spinach. And shortly after that, zucchini and beans became part of my supper routine.

Now here we are at the end of August. The peas were done last week. The beans finished out this weekend, and the rhubarb is not far behind. The cucumber is appreciative of the extra space it has to sprawl, now that I've pulled the unproductive pea and bean plants from the ground. I am expecting several more zucchini before it's decided it's had enough. The tomatoes are exploding, and make an excellent part of my daily lunches. I have enjoyed some carrots and potatoes, but am pretty much leaving the root vegetables as late as possible.

I have definitely come to appreciate the varying life cycles of different vegetables. It would have been impossible to deal with all of them at the same time. Instead, each became ready for harvest at a different part of the season. It kept my garden responsibilities from becoming overwhelming, and it gave me a chance to enjoy each item in turn, rather than madly trying to cook and create meals with all the vegetables at once. I seem to have planted just enough for me and a bit to share. .......And I was worried my garden wouldn't even grow!

There is some awesome Creator working those vegetables. It has been a blast to work along side Him.

Pondering the Miracle

It's Christmastime. AKA Jesus' birthday. I have grown up knowing this, and accepting without question that Jesus' birth was miraculous. I mean, of course it's miraculous. God placed a baby inside a virgin. He sent angels to tell Mary and Joseph what was going on. He sent angels to the shepherds. He placed a star in the sky so the three wise men could find the new King. These are not your ordinary, everyday events. I would say they are some of God's showier "stuff."

But the miracle goes SO beyond that--and is so UN-showy that I think many people miss it. On my drive to work the other morning, I was thinking about the fact that Jesus was born in a stable. It wasn't just coincidence that there was no room at the inn--God meant for there to be no room at the inn so Jesus' birth would be the first display of the Jesus' humility. And I think we mostly recognize this humility in terms of the uncomfortable quarters the stable affords, the presence of animals, and that the stable was where servants spent their time (certainly not kings). But something else struck me the other day. Jesus was born in a barn--a barn!!! I've been in barns. They stink. They're not the warmest. They're dusty. And you get cow poop on your shoes. It's certainly not a sanitary place to bring a child into the world. Angels and immaculate conception aside, it's miracle enough that Jesus' tiny little immune system wasn't overrun by the myriads of microscopic organisms on the floor of that barn!

...I think it's the so fully human aspect of Jesus that continually blows me away. Fully God and fully man. All the knowledge of being Lord, and yet all the experience that goes along with being human. Choosing to set aside power and enter into the world's poop (literally and figuratively). I read once that "every religion in the world is about man trying to reach up to God, like working your way up the ladder. They’re all about striving to achieve something for yourself. Christianity is the only religion about God reaching down to man and offering salvation as a free gift, with the added bonus of a personal relationship with the Creator God through Jesus Christ..." I love it. I love that God loves me that much. To render Himself human so He could be intimate with me.

Purpose

After a long week, it was so good to enter the weekend today! I slept in 'till 11am, giving me over 10 hours of sleep; it was fantastic. Today's agenda: snowshoeing and groceries.

JM and I broke out the snowshoes in the River Valley this afternoon. I have taken a real liking to snowshoeing since I tried it for the first time last year. This year I gave up renting and bought my own pair; I have been several times this winter. Mostly it's just JM and me, but we are slowly pulling people over to the fun side of winter! ...The goal is usually to trek for about an hour, so while snowshoeing, we usually catch up on the other person's day/week, and chat about whatever is at the forefront of our minds at that moment. Such was today, until about 40 minutes in...

As we were making the loop around the ravine to come back to the main park area where we had started, JM noticed some kids playing in the creek below and commented on how it reminded her of days gone by with her older brothers. The scene was a brief recollection of childhood for both of us until we realized one of the children was crying and uncomfortably trying to get over to where his friends were. The kids realized we were there at the same time we realized that we should probably help. I slid down the hill into the ravine, asking to help, while simultaneously changing the gears of my brain into First Aid mode.

It was a big relief that we were not dealing with blood-and-bones-type injuries. Still, his foot had gone through some thin ice in the creek and he had filled his boot with cold, icy water. The poor kid was wet from the shin down, and therefore cold. He definitely didn't need to be down the ravine any longer. From the bottom of the hill, I started helping the kids up towards JM so she could continue pulling them up with her ski poles. At the top, we created a more organized action plan to get them all home. JM put her mitten on his foot, and piggy-backed him while I carried poles, boots, etc., and walked with the other three. Except our cold little man didn't want to go home. Suffice it to say he wasn't exactly s'posed to be playing down there in the first place. I'm sure he felt like strangers returning him to his parents would be adding insult to injury. I understood. But I also had the word 'hypothermia' screaming in my head, and knew that an adult needed to be available on the other end. We briefly considered heading to the house of the other children, but as he was still shivering quite significantly when we finally got around the ravine and up to the residential area, we stuck to the original go-home plan.

Yup, discipline was alluded to by his parents as we dropped him off at his house. I tried to reassure them that he hadn't been anywhere dangerous--he was just wet and we wanted to make sure he got home safely.

As JM and I walked back to the park, we chatted quite animatedly about this impromptu adventure. At one point, JM commented on the randomness of the event and wondering what God had meant by placing that in our afternoon. What were we supposed to glean from it? ...We didn't really conclude anything substantial.

As I was driving home from my grocery shopping, mind you, I thought to myself, maybe God didn't mean for us to get anything out of the afternoon. God uses a lot of circumstances and events to allow us to learn something about Him, His world, His children, and to learn something about ourselves. But that's not the primary reason for anything, is it? All situations, all interactions, all events--they're for His glory. Are we so arrogant to think that God orchestrates events so that we can learn something from them?

...Now, ironically enough, I realize that by gaining this insight, it means I have learned something from my adventuresome afternoon, albeit indirectly. But we so linearly think that big or unusual events must come with meaning. It's not like I learned something new about interacting with children this afternoon; all the skills I used I already had. I didn't gain any parenting wisdom as I was helping the kids or interacting with the child's parents; it was familiar social territory. I didn't gain any new friendship insight; JM and I have been through crazier. The actual situation didn't remind me of anything I didn't already know. And I don't think those kinds of situations (and even bigger ones) necessarily need to bring new insights or learning. Is it such a stretch to think that God might just take the skills and talents He's already given us for nothing more than His glory? So that we (and others) might see a glimpse of Him in their day? And not to learn anything from that glimpse of glory but to just experience it?