The Shadow of Your Wings

I had a wild hair the other night and deleted all previous postings with the intention of taking my scribbling back to the private world of my journals.   I notified the few friends I'd invited to visit me here and was told I'd goofed up.  That I needed to "Keep it going!  Be patient!!!"  So ... tonight I trimmed my hair and decided to reinstate the first few writings and try try again.

My reason for beginning this was not so much an outreach as a reach out.  An opportunity to share thoughts, prayers, and musings with a community beyond my own "little world."  That's what my son calls it - my life - my "little world."  He, leading a metro lifestyle, means it as a put-down.  For a long time I took it as such, not feeling so much offended by the comment as belittled.  I believed him, and I started wanting more.  A bigger home in the city, with a paved driveway and streets; my mail delivered at the curb instead of a mile down the roughest dirt road in the county.  I dreamt of being able to go to the theatre, the symphony, of shopping the malls and meeting friends at nice restaurants; of driving a clean, new car rather than a mud encrusted vehicle that will clear the potholes.  Mostly I wished for people around me.  Intelligent, educated, enlightened people.  You know, "city folk!" 

Occasionally I do make it into the big cities to enjoy an evening at the theatre or a day touring the museums of history and art, shopping someplace other than Walmart, but I am always glad to come home to my "little world" where I needn't lock my truck or house, where the cashier at the local grocery asks how my grandchildren are (knowing them by name) or when the next one is due (next month.  Number 9.)  We wile away an evening on the back deck, watching the moon rise, the Pleiades coming up behind.  I spend my mornings with a steaming cup of tea in hand, listening to the roosters announce the coming morn, waiting for the peachy rising of the sun, the chorale of bird song welcoming the day.  What symphony can compare?  What brushstroke paint the beauty of creation?

As for people ... people are brilliant, whether their formal education ended in the 8th grade so they could work the fields to help support their families or hold multiple degrees in their chosen field of work.  One might be able to explain the necessity for (and actually pronounce) all the additives and ingredients in a jar of jelly, but the other, in my little world, knows the process of creating it - from the first scent of blossom on the breeze to the final putting up of the jewel colored beauty (sans additives and preservatives.)  My city friends and family love the idea of living "green," I love living in the green.  The wonder of composting - talk about trash to treasure!  The sweet ice cream smell of a milking goat versus the perfumed scent of goat's milk soaps.  My "essential oils" are the essence of the plant - fresh rosemary, thyme, basil, not some highly refined, intensified, emulsified, brown bottled version.

All this to say that I love my "little world."  I have chosen it because it is real, it is green by God's design, its fragrance is profoundly complex, and its simplicity simply profound.

Yes, I am indeed "abundantly satisfied with the fullness of (His) house" and with the gift of home.

May you know your place in our little world and be satisfied with abundance as you delight yourself in the Lord and His care beneath the shadow of His wings.

Blessings ~

I pulled a book from my shelves this evening, The Reflective Life by Ken Gire.  I've read it before, but thought it might at the very least engage my mind for a while.  Opening it to no particular page I read an excerpt from a previous writing of his - Windows of the Soul (which I've read as well.)  I groaned.  Oh Lord, I thought, more window stuff? 

Gire writes about "someday" being able to be and do all he longs to, "But while I was living for all those somedays I was missing all my todays.  I was so busy getting where I wanted to be I forgot where I was and what was being offered me there by the generous hand of God.  Seeing windows in my day to day life changed all that, quieting the noise in my soul as I began to realize not only what was being offered, but by whom.  And ... I began to receive what was offered, not someday but today."

Have I become so focused on "where I want to be" that I've forgotten how to receive what is being offered me here, now?  Peace.  A perfect opportunity for a reflective, contemplative, prayerful life.  Is this the season for such?

Gire quotes Thomas Kelly (from A Testament of Devotion) - "Over the margins of life comes a whisper, a faint call, a premonition of richer living which we know we are passing by ... a life of unhurried serenity and peace and power."

To the passerby peeking through my kitchen window, mine is a life of unhurried serenity and peace, but on this side of the glass it seems that the "richer living" is passing by me.  And yet, if I quiet my anxious thoughts (about what I may be missing) for just a moment I hear the whispered Be still and know that I AM God and a call to "Follow Me."

Father, help me to calm my soul before You, to see what it is You offer today and grant that I might have the grace to receive this gift of peace from your hand; to trust that You have placed me where You would have me be.  Let me learn to live there, here, this day, in the richness of Your presence and power.   In that place alone will I find and fulfill Your purpose for my life.

Thank You.

Have you ever tried to catch a winged thing?  Butterfly, cardinal, angel ...  It's not easy!  I see photos of folks with a hummingbird on the finger, a butterfly perched upon their nose, feeding chickadees out of hand.  I can't even catch one of my own chickens!

Jacob caught an angel once.  Wrestled with Him through the night, was even winning the match, with a dislocated hip!  Imagine!  But he held on.

Maybe there is something to that.  I don't tend to hold fast to the wing.  Chickens squawk so pathetically, butterflies struggle so tremendously that I'm afraid I'll hurt them, so I let go.  I've never even come close to capturing a hummer.  I did hold a beautiful painted bunting once.  Saved him from the cat.  He lay so quietly in my hand that I thought I'd arrived too late when he suddenly opened one eye, blinked at me, and whoosh ~ was gone like the wind.  I didn't mind losing hold of that one.

How does one take hold the wing of life?  To participate in it, with it, rather than just watching it pass by.  Sometimes it comes so close I can hear the whisper of its wings with each beat of my heart, and I think I might just be able to grab a featherhold, but then a wind of weakness, or weariness, or fear blows through and whoosh ~

Lord, I am covered by Your pinions, standing in the mist from the very fountain of Life.  Let me drink deeply from the river of Your delight.  Your feather is but a reach away ... Give me courage and strength to hold tight and "not let go unless You bless me!"

From my kitchen window I watch life flutter by on the wings of a dove, a cardinal, chickadees, jays, and in their season, butterflies.

From my kitchen window I watch life flutter by.  It doesn't hurry; most often it floats gently, pausing to taste, to sip, to rest, or simply spread its wings in the sun.  There are moments when it rises up, soaring just beyond my vision, but still casting its shadow upon the ground.  In these times I learn to trust and rejoice beneath the wing of Life that covers me and to discern the seasons that He has set for me.

The past years I've lived quietly and simply, in part because we reside several miles "past 'the sticks'" as one guest put it.  Our kitchen window overlooks acre upon acre of wilderness.  My husband always wanted to have a few acres where he could raise cattle and do whatever it is that men of his ilk think it is they need to do with a bit of land at hand.  After several years of searching for something we could afford we stumbled upon this raw, cedar infested lot and declared, "This'll do."  (We laughingly call the place "Thistle Dew Farm.")  We've raised a few calves (for the freezer), keep a small herd of goats (as pets) and a flock of chickens chosen for their beauty rather than their laying productivity, and have discovered that herb gardens thrive in this semi-arid environment.

All in all, it has been good.  I love the solitude and serenity of country life, and being a bit of a hermit by nature (or design) it has suited me.  But in recent months I've become increasingly aware, watching from my kitchen window, that the life fluttering by is mine, and unlike the annual return of barn swallows, cranes, or monarchs, each season, each day spent watching is a day spent.  Passed.  Gone.  There is no season of return on one's lifetime, and I begin to realize a day is coming when I will mourn what might have been had I dared to look beyond my own pane.

As it happens, we are having a new window installed next week, a larger one that will increase my view.  I hope it will expand my vision as well.  Life will continue to flutter by, but perhaps I can catch and ride the wing of it rather than just watching from my kitchen window.

fluttering by ...

How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God!

Therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of Your wings,

They are abundantly satisfied with the fullness of Your house,

and You give them drink from the river of Your pleasures.  (Ps 36:7,8)

Therefore in the shadow of Your wings I will rejoice! (Ps 63:7)

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