Seasons

Having lived most of my adult years in the southwestern part of the United States, I have often felt deprived of the lack of four distinct seasons of the year, and slightly envious of those who live in other corners of the country.

Family and friends who live in the Pacific Northwest have four seasons. They enjoy the gradual warm-up of spring, the bounty of summer flowers and veggies, the beauty of autumn leaves and the gentle quiet of snowy winters.

I, on the other hand, enjoy a year that consists of mostly two types of weather.  We have balmy spring where temperatures bounce from the low 40s to the high 80s in sometimes less than a  24 hour period. And summer days with sometimes blistering 100+  degree days that go on for weeks with no relief of rain or breeze.  Autumn consists of days with  low 80s and nights of high 60s . And then winter comes along with night time freezes followed by daytime heat waves, requiring the air conditioner to bounce from heating to cooling in the craziest of weather cycles.

And so I’ve decided that I can’t base my seasons on the traditional calendar.  Instead,  I have decided that my seasons will be based around holidays and special events and family-related activities .

Here’s how my calendar is going to run:

From the day after Thanksgiving until the day after Valentine’s day shall be Winter. That gives approximately 3 months to enjoy every excuse to eat lots of yummy food (especially the chocolate kind),  to celebrate the birth of my Savior with family and friends,  to read lots of great books,  to do some indoor crafty stuff (knitting and sewing come to mind but there could be some photo-related crafts in there too).

From February 15 until the day after Easter shall be Spring. Time for planting and gardening chores, doing some indoor cleaning and de-cluttering. And cutting back on the yummy foods of Winter, with exception of Valentine candies, GirlScout cookies, and chocolate Easter bunnies. I spend my reading time pouring through the pages of the seed catalogs that have filled my mailbox,  and laying out plans for the future garden in my mind and sometimes on paper.  And Spring is time for celebrating the resurrection of my Lord.  Yes, it’s a short window of time, maybe 6 weeks at best,  but there is a lot involved, so one could consider it as a very condensed season that has more to it than meets the eye.

From the day after Easter until October 30 shall be Summer. This is the season to travel and to see grandkids and cousins and friends, and to eat all the fruits and veggies that were planted in spring, and to enjoy baseball games and fishing trips and river floats. It’s a grand time to read some absolutely frivolous books that have no value other than making you feel good.  And it’s a wonderful time to just sit and look at the wonders of God’s glorious world.  You might notice that this is an extended period of time, like maybe closer to six months instead of the traditional three. But remember that it’s my calendar and I like summer best so I’m making it the longest season in my year.

And then we will have Autumn, which starts on Halloween day and lasts until Thanksgiving day. It’s a very short window but there is not much to do during this time frame, except maybe  visit to a part of the country that has brisk mornings and warm days and leaves of every color.  Or at least take a virtual trip through the travel books that have been piling up through the summer.  (And finishing off the leftover trick-or-treat candy.)  The best part of the Autumn season is taking a day to celebrate with my family and friends by giving thanks for all that God has given to me.

And that brings us full-circle back to winter. Which, according to my calendar,

is officially over

as of today and so it is now Spring!

 And so I have a lot to do and a short time to get it done.  I have baby tomato plants to repot and fruit trees to plant, along with new rose bushes to put into my memorial garden in honor of Papa Wayne and my friend Patsy. I have closets to clean and clothes to take to the donation box. And I have seed catalogs to linger over. I have my Valentine’s box to nibble my way through, along with  my supply of Girl Scout cookies to enjoy with my afternoon tea.  Easter is around the corner so there are little outfits to make and chocolate bunnies to create and plans to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Spring may just prove to be a really close contender to being  my favorite season of the year.

 Ecclesiastes 3:1

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

New year, new computer….

My old computer gave up the ghost this past week.

It has been on a slow meltdown for some time now.

The CD drive quit working about a year ago.

Two of the three USB ports stopped working over the past six months.

The webcam has been out of commission for a very long time.

And then the blue screen of death occurred this past week.

Just in time for a new semester.

And a new commitment to serve as host for an online Bible study.

So I have a new computer.

And I’m slowly reloading all of my very important stuff…

pictures

addresses

websites.

Only to discover that I had “remember this password” clicked on all of the websites and programs on the old computer so that I would never need to ever remember any password.

And so I have spent the afternoon,

sifting through pictures,

updating address books,

and trying to remember passwords.

I love technology.

And I love the new computer that I have.  I love the screen savers that look like photos of places I would like to visit.

I love the wide screen and the fast keys and the light weight.

I love being able to go online and see and talk with my family and friends with the webcam.

And I love that I was finally able to remember the password to get in to my blog and get this message posted.

And for those who see that I have not posted anything to this blog since last June or July, please know that it was a long and trying autumn.  I am in a slight period of hibernation but am anticipating to coming back to full speed as the days lengthen and warm up again!

Home is where your heart is…

We recently closed on the sale of our home in Burleson.

The home that I thought I would never move from, that we thought was the perfect place to spend the rest of our lives.

Set on an acre of land, it had a workshop for Jess, and hobby house (that was crammed with stuff) for me, and plenty of space for the family to all be together.

It was the house where my grandkids spent weekends (and weeks) with me, playing on the rope swing, swimming in the pool, hunting Easter eggs, carving pumpkins, building snowmen, and decorating Christmas trees.

It was the house where we planted roses in memory of relatives who are no longer part of this world, along with the little pine tree that was my dad’s last Christmas tree (a little tiny “live tree” that came in a 12 inch pot, that has now grown to be a 5 foot pine tree), irises that had been passed from my great-grandmother to my grandmother to my mother to me, and ferns to cover the spots where our beloved pets Moe and Tilly were buried.

To say that it was a bittersweet moment would be an understatement.

You see, I have spent most of my life moving. My dad was in powerline work, and we relocated often, because he was transferred to different locations on a frequent basis. It was not a bad life. I rather enjoyed seeing new country (sometimes seeing the same country for a second or third time), and meeting new people. And, I loved being the new kid in school. Over my 13 years of public education, from kindergarten to high school graduation, I changed schools 23 times. I never had to complete a term paper until I hit my senior year!

Through my childhood years, we lived in some great houses. Some were brand new, in little neighborhoods, where we grew flowers and trees and great friendships that have lasted through the years.

And some were old houses, surrounded by orange trees and horse pastures,  with only a fireplace and wood cook stove to provide heat through the cold winters.

After my brothers left home, my parents bought a trailer for us to live in, which made moving so much simpler. Just tape down the cabinets and hitch on, and we were off to a new adventure. It made perfect sense!

 But, after I left home, I wanted to be settled. I wanted my kids to live in the same house and to go to the same school from kinder to graduation, and to have a place to come home to with their children.

My dreams were of a big house with a huge porch, surrounded by trees and flowers, with neighbors and friends and relatives popping in for iced tea and nice visits and lots of kids and maybe a few puppies and cats.

Evidently, that is not what God wanted for me.

In my adult life, I have averaged a major move every seven years. I’ve lived in tents , travel trailers, apartments, mobile homes, old dilapidated shacks and nice brick houses. What I’ve learned from all my moving is that a house is just a building, made of wood or brick or metal, and can be bought or sold or destroyed. A home is made in your heart, and is something that no one can build, sell, or destroy.

We have found a nice little house here in San Antonio. It has a little porch on the front and a small yard in the back. I have transplanted a few of the flowers I had in Burleson, some of the roses, a lot of the irises, starts from the lilies and ferns that grew over our old pets. I have met nice neighbors and I’ve had relatives who drop by for a glass of iced tea and spend a few minutes just visiting. The grandkids have been here and have given it their stamp of approval. A pair of puppies have adopted us and make their home in our house and are slowly working their way into our hearts, although Jinx is still the lord of the manor.

I am hoping that God will decide to extend my tenure at this house, as it is becoming more comfortable as pictures are placed on walls, boxes are unpacked and items are put into their proper places. It’s nice to be home.

Home is where the heart is…

Performed by Elvis (like who else can do that song?)…I’m not too crazy about the slideshow that is here but I do love the song.

IMG-20110711-00433

The Morning After

So, it’s Easter Monday, the morning after the Resurrection day…I wonder what the disciples were thinking on this day?

The past week had to have been one of the most exciting, challenging, uplifting, depressing, devastating weeks that the twelve disciples could have ever lived.

Starting with Palm Sunday, coming to Jerusalem, seeing the crowds of people placing the palm leaves ahead of the Messiah. Things were finally falling in place for their leader!

Monday, watching the frustration and anger as Jesus went about cleaning out the temple (again). Oh, and watching Him pass by that fig tree and giving it a good cursing. Not the most cheerful of days.

Tuesday, a run-in with the local law, along with a trip up the Mount of Olives for what would become the last of His teaching opportunities, clinging to His words, still not realizing that His kingdom that was “at hand” was not a kingdom of the world as they knew it.

Wednesday…it must have been the calm before the storm, it’s a quiet time in the gospels.

Thursday started with the high emotions of the Passover dinner in the upper room, sharing the traditions of their forefathers, but then things started going downhill so soon after: the sadness and grief as He prayed in the garden, followed by the acceptance of what was to come: the betrayal, the arrest, the false trial and conviction of their leader.

Friday, they were struck with grief as they watched their loved one die on that cross. Shock that one of their very own group could be so shallow and selfish as to sell out their leader. Removing His body from that cross, taking it to a tomb, a borrowed one at that, and having to just leave it there, not being properly prepared for burial. Having to hurry back to their homes before the Sabbath began, as there was no time to properly grieve their loss.

Saturday must have been a day filled with shock. I can imagine the disciples feeling shattered, betrayed, and abandoned. The very worst had happened. How could He have allowed Himself to be crucified? How could one of their own have turned against their leader? Had they just wasted the past 3 years of their lives on a wild, crazy dream of a new way of life, giving up everything they owned, to follow someone who had so much to promise, and instead, who was to be betrayed and judged and crucified, just like the two criminals whose crosses flanked His? I’m sure they were exhausted…physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

But then, came Sunday, with the women of the group coming to the tomb to take care of the body, instead, finding it empty, seeing the angels, seeing the LORD, the RISEN LORD!

I’m thinking of how these women must have run to tell the disciples, then coming back to the tomb yet again, seeing Him standing there, reaching out to show them His hands, to prove that He was really their Jesus, and that He really was alive! What excitement, joy, relief, and awe they must have felt, when they were able to see and talk with Him again!

What an incredibly great ending to an otherwise hopeless week!

And now, it’s Monday. There’s always a Monday to follow the weekend, isn’t there? Back to work, back to the routine and the job that is set before you.

Was it business as usual for the disciples? Did they just get up and go about their day, off to the fishing boats, back to the lives that they led before they started following Jesus? Was the Resurrection just a happy memory of a great day? Was it something to put on the calendar … something to plan to celebrate again at this same time next year? Oh, I think not!

Because the story didn’t end on Easter Sunday.   The disciples had been given a mission straight from the lips of the risen Lord Himself. These disciples, who had been in training for three years, now had the business of sharing the full story of good news…that little baby who was born in Bethlehem, who grew to be the man called Jesus, who was crucified in Jerusalem, is now alive again and is the Messiah! They were given the task to share the news that He lives…that Jesus Christ is the only Son of God, that He was crucified, and that by believing in Him your sins are forgiven, and that He is with you always. And that same mission has been given to each who believe.  With whom will you share the good news of the risen Christ?

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age. Matthew 28: 19-20

And, one of my favorite gospel hymns…performed by the Gaither Vocal Band

Because He Lives…

posted to youtube by mrayburn8743

 

 

The morning chirp

My feathered and furry friends provided my entertainment as I enjoyed my  coffee this morning.   This is my take on their morning conversation… 

“Hey Red….how’s it going?”

“Not bad. Great day here in the yard. Lots of worms and bugs out after they watered last night.”

“Should be good pickings this morning.”

“Hey, speaking of pickings…did you see that silly squirrel…he’s been hogging the whole feeder!”

“Yeah, he makes a big mess!  All the  the good stuff ends up on the ground. Oh well, it makes it better for the big birds.”

“That’s for sure, because they don’t fit in this little feeder!”

“So maybe the best idea is to just scarf up the stuff that’s on the ground instead of trying to fit into the house.”

“Yep, and then there’s that little birdbrain who takes up the whole water pan.

You’d think it was a birdbath or something!”

“Well, got to wing it out of here. Good chirping with you!”

I can only imagine…

My sister-in-law, Faye, lost her battle with cancer this week. It was short, but fierce.  At first, she said that she wasn’t going to fight the cancer. She was going for ‘quality over quantity’ for the days that she had left to her. But, then she got her legs under her and she came out scrapping. She may have lost the battle, but she won the war. She won, because the things that made Fay HER are still here…

She was the only daughter in a family of boys. She learned at an early age how to play and fight. And she did. She could out-wit, out-play, and out-slug the best of them.

She loved to laugh.

She loved her family. She loved her husband, the sons that were born to her, the daughters that came to her as part of that marriage, and the girls that her boys loved and married. She loved her grandkids, and one of her greatest joys was that she was in the rooms when three of them were born. She loved her cousins and her inlaws, and she even loved her outlaws. If you are reading this and you knew Faye, you can rest assured that she loved you, too. I hope she knew how much we loved her. 

She believed in forgiveness. And second chances. And even third chances when necessary.

She loved roses, all kinds of roses. But she loved yellow ones best.

She loved angels. Her room was full of them. She loved their beauty and loved that they were here to protect us.

She loved Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. And she worshipped Him in her own special way. She loved to read the Christmas story. Every year, after Christmas Eve had slowed down, she and I would read it at the same time, even though we were separated by the miles. It was our little tradition to each other.

I would have loved to have seen her face when she first opened her eyes in heaven. I can only imagine how it was for her to see the most ‘beautimous’ place ever, to see her family and friends who were there first, to see her angels, and to see her Jesus. I can see her jaw dropping, her smile breaking across her face, and then, I can hear her say, with a big laugh and a quiet little voice:

“Hot damn, ain’t this something!”

I Can Only Imagine

 

 

I Can Only Imagine, posted to You Tube by Matthew Sgherzi . Words and Music by Bart Millard. Yellow Rose image by FlowersYard.com.