IMPOSTORS

Not long ago, I posted about some birds who had come to feed at my finch sock. There have been quite a few since then, but none are yellow. And yet I was told that only goldfinches have thin enough beaks to be able to eat from the sock.

Does anybody have any idea what my hungry little visitors are?

COULDN'T BELIEVE MY EYES

This has to be one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. It's the Chinese Ballet Circus' unusual interpretion of Swan Lake. The skill and strength involved in what they are doing is phenomenal. And don't stop watching after the frogs. It get's way more incredible after that.

A NEW BABY

"...to him who is able to do immeasurably

more than all we ask or imagine..."

(Ephesians 3:20)

It seems like only yesterday that I was a young widow with two small children and a real concern about what would happen to them if anything happened to me. My fervent prayer was that I would at least be there to see them grow up.

Not only did the Lord answer that prayer, but he has enabled me to see two grandchildren grow up, four more in the process, and even blessed me with two great grandchildren.

Welcome to the world little Dominic. I love you so, so, so much.

NOTHING TOO SMALL

A while back I visited a friend who introduced me to goldfinches and finch socks. I can't recall ever seeing a goldfinch before, and was fascinated by these colorful little birds feeding on thistle seed from the finch socks in her garden.

Well I live in an apartment, so I don't have a garden, but I do have a terrace, and on the way home I picked up a thistle-stuffed finch sock to hang from the rafters. Then I eagerly awaited the finches, but none came.

Days passed, followed by weeks, and at the end of a month I was wondering if maybe the frequent storms in our area had made the thistle seed unpalatable, or if, perhaps, finches didn't live in this neck of the woods. What to do.

My thoughts turned to a loving God who cares about the most minute details of our lives. Nothing is too small to bring to Him in prayer. And so I prayed that He would send one little finch my way.

I guess the picture speaks for itself, even though I could not get close enough to capture their colors on film.

OF MANY MINDS

Almost two weeks ago we were hit by the first and worst of several storms to pound our area. It was short but extreme. A tornado that didn't hit the ground. Something noteworthy enough to be a blog post, but before I actually sat down to write it, the theme had changed several times.

As I surveyed the damage--a flood in my bedroom where the swirling rain had been propelled through the top of the windows; the pot of tomato plants on my terrace that had toppled over, emptying itself all over the floor; my little miracles lying there uprooted and pathetically flattened out; the prospect of another lengthy power failure--the first thing I thought of was AFTERMATH OF A VIOLENT STORM.

Variations of that title ran through my mind as I mopped up the water in the bedroom, thanking the Lord for keeping the nearby computer and TV dry; as I scooped the dirt and seemingly lifeless plants off the terrace floor and dumped everything back in the pot while praying for a second miracle to revive them; as I opened up all the windows; and as I drove to the store for ice.

Although the store was dark, and the automatic doors weren't supposed to open with no power, they actually did--in slow motion. I was greeted by an astonished manager, who asked how I had gotten in. When I told him I had come in through the door and needed to buy some ice to keep the contents of my freezer from spoiling, he informed me that he could not sell it to me because the cash registers weren't working and the store was closed for business. But something caused a change of heart--whether my downcast face, or pitiful little old lady image, I'll never know--and as I turned to leave the store, he relented, called me back, and gave me a 10 pound bag for free. (Actually, he first tried to give me a 20 pound bag, offering even to carry it out to the car, but I pointed out that it wouldn't be any use to me if I wasn't able to carry it up the stairs when I got home.)

When I returned to my apartment it was much cooler than the near 90 degree weather outside--one of the benefits of not having direct exposure to the sun--and there was a nice breeze wafting through the open windows. So once the ice was in the freezer, I settled in to a long day of reading. The books were by an author I had never heard of before. My introduction to them had been through a friend's blog, and the titles seemed so engaging I borrowed the whole bunch from the library just days before. What a delight. By the time the power came back on some 28 hours later, I had made my way through two of them. Things were looking up. Maybe I would change the title of my post to LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF THINGS.

The next morning, the power was still out, but the apartment remained cool, and the tomato plants showed signs of survival. Since I couldn't get any work done without my computer, it seemed like a good time to tackle some dreaded chores--like the siding on my terrace. That's a task I had been putting off since the day I moved in here many months ago. It took quite a few hours to complete since I worked slowly and took several gingersnap cookie breaks (shame on me), to make it seem less overwhelming. That made me reminisce about my very first post--TRADER JOE TRIPLE GINGER SNAP COOKIES --and wonder whether my new post should be something like REPEATING PAST SINS, or DEJA VUE.

Well, that evening the power did come back on, but not the Internet. I was a little disappointed, but figured it would be back up by morning. Fat chance! Service was not restored for another three-and-a-half days, and by then I was no longer looking on the bright side. Since I work as an independent contractor from home, there is no benefits package. When I don't work, I don't get paid, which is not a happy thought for someone on a very tight austerity budget. I was also disappointed not to be able to start blogging while ideas were still fresh in my mind.

When the Internet finally did come back on, work needed to be my highest priority. And I did manage to get in almost a full day before the next round of storms, which caused the power to flicker on and off several times, sending the Internet down for another day, and frying my power surge protector in the process. At this point I started thinking maybe the title of my post should be FRUSTRATION, FRUSTRATION.

Funny how the same event can be experienced in so many different ways according to our perspective at the time.

JUST WANTED TO SHARE

This morning, while searching for something else, I came across two links that piqued my interest, and after checking them out, thought they might be worth sharing.

The first is a Blog Bible Study by Lisa McKay, entitled "I AM--SO YOU DON"T HAVE TO BE." You can work at your own pace, and there are links that enable you to share comments and thoughts.

The second link takes you to a blog spot called Internet Cafe, which is described as "a place to kick back, grab a virtual chair at our table, and allow God to fill your cup to running over. It's addictive, but only He can satisfy the craving of your soul. Join us for your daily dose of inspiration." Lots of food for thought here as you enjoy that cup of Java. The menu includes daily devotions as well as a weekly chat topic in meme format.

Now I'm all set for a new adventure--once I figure out what a meme is. :-)

COUNTING THE COST

"On hearing it, many of his disciples said,
'This is a hard teaching. Who can accept
it?' . . . From this time many of his disciples
turned back and no longer followed him.
'You do not want to leave too, do you?'
Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter
answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we
go? You have the words of eternal life."
(John 6:60b,66-67a)

Shortly after my move some months ago, I joined an early morning Bible study at the local book store. The first study was very interesting and practical, and I really looked forward to each session, even though I'm ashamed to say I overslept and missed a few. However, this week we started a new study by Kay Arthur, the title of which made me so uncomfortable, I seriously considered dropping out for the summer. The study is called BEING A DISCIPLE: COUNTING THE REAL COST, and unlike our previous study, this one is inductive, which means we have to dig into the Word and find our own answers.

The Scriptures for Week One did not include the feel good verses about love, and forgiveness, and grace, but rather, the kind of verses that make me squirm. The ones about what the lifestyle of a believer should be, and about being hated and persecuted, and about taking up our cross to follow Jesus.

In the discussion that followed, we pretty much agreed that what Jesus tells us in these passages does not sound very appealing or attractive at all and my thoughts turned to the quote at the top of this post, a quote that was often in my mind during the early part of my West Virginia odyssey twelve years ago. I remembered asking that same question over and over when things seemed so overwhelming I was tempted to drive over the side of the mountain, but there was never any other answer than the one Peter gave.

Now looking back, I see how faithful the Lord has been, how He was always with me, how the trials drew me closer to Him, and enabled me to see Him work in awesome ways that would never have been possible if the going had been smooth.

There are so many things I will never fully understand while I am in this world, but of one thing I can be sure. God loves and values each one of us. We are all Divine originals, created with a very special purpose that nobody else can fulfill. And even if we can't see why things are the way they are, we can trust that God is on the throne and in complete control. We can be sure that even though it may not seem like it, He is working things out for our ultimate good and for His glory.

HOW DID I END UP HERE

My granddaughter tagged me for this six word memoir, and at first I had a hard time thinking of anything with six words, but then ideas started flowing, and I wound up with a couple of pages of six worders and the even harder task of trying to pick just one. Eventually I was able to cross off most of them, but couldn't decide between these five. They all seem to fit.

• Expected one thing, got something else
• Bop bag keeps bouncing back up
• God's agenda proves better than mine
• Weary traveler on the road home
• When all else fails, God doesn't

I'm tagging my bloggy friend Average Jane because I just love the way she writes, and am most curious to see what six words she would come up with.

And I'm tagging Sandy's Smiles, because I haven't seen anything new on her blog for a while, and I miss her, and hope this will encourage her to start posting again soon.

The rules are:

1. Write the title to your own memoir using 6 words.
2. Post it on your blog.
3. Link it to the person that tagged you.
4. Tag at least one more blog. (I changed that rule from the original 'tag five,' because I had a hard time thinking of five people who hadn't already been tagged, or that I know read my blog).

WITNESSING A MIRACLE

"...A man scatters seed on the ground.
Night and day, whether he sleeps or
gets up, the seed sprouts and grows,
though he does not know how."
(Mark 4: 26b-27)


This year I decided to try growing tomatoes from scratch (seeds instead of adopted seedlings). However, remembering my experience last summer, I did not want to over coddle them. So instead of first planting the seeds in little cups indoors (as per the instructions on the packet), I planted them right in the two big pots sitting on my terrace.

The day of my venture dawned warm and sunny, but as I planted the seeds, I realized my terrace, though bright, does not get any direct sunlight. Furthermore, the pots are somewhat sheltered. And then the next day, the temperatures dropped drastically from the high 70's to the low 50's, and a couple of days after that, we had some thunder storms and heavy rain, which I felt sure must have drowned those poor seeds. What to expect?

For about 10 days I checked the pots but could see no evidence of emerging life. Then today, when I was about to give up hope, and plant some new seeds, two little sprouts put in an appearance. Hmm. Wasn't that a lesson from last summer too? Something about "...at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up?" (Galatians 6:9b)

POOF, IT'S GONE!

"What is your life? You are a mist that
appears for a little while and then vanishes."
(James 4:14b)

Now I know that time doesn't change, but these days it feels like it flies by a whole lot faster than it did when I was a child or in my youth. Waiting for things seemed to take forever then, and I must have wished away years, trying to speed things along.

I remember as a 21, almost 22-year-old, despairing of ever finding a mate, and fearing I would wind up an old maid. Those were the days of young love, and crushes, and a broken heart, as I gravitated towards men who were unavailable, or unable/unwilling to return my affections. But, as you can see, I did not stay an old maid forever. and here I am, a grandma, with a granddaughter about the age I was then, who undoubtedly has entertained similar thoughts--I think.

What I didn't realize is that every season has a blessing to be enjoyed, even though it may not be the one we are looking for. There are little windows of opportunity, easily missed, and no longer available down the road, like the free time I have available to do some of the things I enjoy when work is slow. I am self-employed, and tend to forget that my work is cyclical--feast or famine--and until the aha moment, when I realized the predictable pattern of it all, many wonderful breathing spells were wasted while I worried about how the bills would get paid.

There have been events in my life that I would have preferred not to have lived through, and yet, in retrospect, I see how closed doors led to better ones opening, that would not have opened had the original ones not closed. Which makes me think we are like tapestries being woven by a master weaver. It's hard, if not impossible, to see the emerging masterpiece when you are all caught up in the knots and tangles of the reverse side. It's only in looking back that you can appreciate it. Or at least, that has been my experience.