Gone Away is the Bluebird

October 16, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ Leave a comment

All summer long, as I watched my sociable little swallows raise their family, there was another family of birds, much shyer, quietly doing the same in another nest hidden away somewhere in the trees around our yard. Nearly every day, I’d glimpse a flash of brilliant blue as they were busy caring for their brood—and eventually we’d see the whole family out learning how to fly.

They never let me get close enough for a picture, much as I would have liked one, and now they’re all gone, headed for the south to flee the coming snow. But while I was out taking photos of the sunset the other day, I happened to glance down at the ground and was delighted to discover that one of them had left me this shining sapphire of a goodbye gift.

It was like a lovely little promise. We’ll be back! I tucked it carefully away to remind myself in the midst of the coming winter that this was true.

“…the stork in the sky knows her seasons; and the turtledove and the swift and the thrush observe the time of their migration…” (Jeremiah 8:7)

And so, until next spring, lovely bluebirds!

When Autumn Comes

October 11, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 3 Comments

What does that picture have to do with autumn, you ask? Where are the photos of flaming red maple leaves and golden poplars?

Yes, I know.

This is a strange time of year to post pictures from my flower garden. But the lovely truth is that this is exactly how my flowers looked for the entire month of September. We kept getting frost warnings, and every morning I kept thinking that I’d wake up to find them all black and wilted—but on they bloomed, seemingly unfazed by the chilly nights. October came, and they still looked gorgeous even after the tomatoes I’d left in the garden froze and the leaves on the maples across the field had turned to orange.

I was both amazed by their resilience, and delighted. I was even beginning to wonder if they were invincible.

Then my baby let out her hungry cry just after 6 AM Monday morning, just like clockwork. I tiptoed sleepily in to scoop her up, and stopped to peek out the window. I expected to glimpse the first pale brightening to the east of the sun rise, and I did—but my attention quickly shifted to the rest of the world. It was breathtakingly white with a frost so thick it almost looked like snow. Fog was rolling in heavy off the lake in the chilly air. The cosmos and nasturtiums stood starkly silhouetted against the steadily brightening sky, stiff with the heavy lace of frost.

Would they survive even this, I wondered?

I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. The sun rose, and the little garden of billowing old-fashioned flowers that had brought me so many hours of dish-washing pleasure wilted and turned black. Of course, they weren’t invincible. They had lasted long, but their turn had come, like it always must, to succumb to winter’s coming cold. As I regretfully watched them droop, I was reminded of the comparison made in James:

“For the sun rises…and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. So also will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits.” (James 1:11)

It’s so easy to admire and long for, even covet, the riches and prestige of this world. The possessions, the comforts, the privileges—and no matter how much you have, it seems like there’s always something more to get. But the truth is, it’s all just as fleeting and temporal as the flowers in my garden after harsh frost. I love, though, that James follows this somewhat disheartening truth up some good news. Because while earthly riches are of surprisingly low value in God’s economy, he’s quick to tell us that there is something of infinitely greater value to pursue:

“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” (James 1:12)

When the end of all things comes, it will not be the one with the most money in his bank account who is honored, but rather the one who has remained faithful through trial and temptation for the sake of the One he loves.

May we each take our eyes off the earthly things around us that sparkle and call with empty promises of satisfaction, and set our eyes instead on that higher and sure goal, a glorious crown of life!

Lessons from Grandpa

October 5, 2015October 16, 2021 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

He taught me that getting old didn’t mean you quit living—and that you could still go swimming every day and play volleyball and travel the world when you were going-on-90.He taught me not to be afraid to dream and to try new and crazy things. Start a restaurant! Convert a roller skating rink into a church building! Plant potatoes a month earlier than anyone else in the county! Invent an automatic bed-making machine!

He taught how to put my own worms on my own hook and know how to tie proper knots so I could change my own lures. It was from him that I learned that lunch in a fishing boat could legitimately consist of a can of pop and a candy bar. He also taught me the art of telling people how many fish we caught without revealing where we caught them, and how to sweet talk ’em when they weren’t biting.

He taught me that ice cream was a vegetable—and should, accordingly, be eaten as often possible, preferably topped with homegrown raspberries. And chocolate and caramel and nuts and hard cookies. But he also taught me that vegetables (the real ones) were pretty amazing, too.

He taught me that one didn’t need an advanced education to write witty and thoughtful letters in your grandchildren’s birthday cards.

He taught me how to judge a good dairy cow, and then how to care for her after I took his advice and bought her.

He taught me that it’s possible for a lame pun to be hilarious, when said with that much mischief twinkling in one’s eyes.

He taught me how to make Spanish omelettes.

He taught me that fashion statements can be made with coveralls just as well as bolo ties, matching belt buckles and fancy cowboy boots. That having hard candy in your pocket is a great way to win friends and influence people. And that a hearty splash of gasoline will cure a bad case of poison ivy (much to my mother’s dismay…).

You were only ninety-one young, Grandpa—not old enough to die. I’m going to miss you!

“For You…O God… have given me the inheritance of those who fear Your name.” (Psalm 61:5)

For more memories of my grandfather, see here and here.

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I’ll Fly Away

September 25, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ Leave a comment

These days, the skies around our farm are alive with action. All the little goslings have grown up, and are hard at work in flight school, taking lessons in formation and technique from their elders. They wheel around the barn, descending to the gentle hills in the hay field; they rise in great clouds and move off towards the corn fields. The echo of wings flapping against the surface of the lake is steady all day long as they practice syncing their watery takeoffs and landings over and over again. And all of this, of course, to the music of autumn, a grand symphony (or cacophony, some might say) of honking.I love it.

But not just because the air is alive with action, but because it’s alive with anticipation.

They’re practicing for the big event, that great annual journey somewhere to the south. It always brings the favorite old gospel song to mind that was sung so appropriately at the memorial service this last week:

Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away.

To a home on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away.

I’ll fly away, oh glory, I’ll fly away.

When I die, hallelujah by and by, I’ll fly away. (Albert E. Brumley)It’s a beautiful picture of the end of life for one who belongs to Christ, isn’t it?

“And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest…” (Psalm 55:6)

See You Later

September 18, 2015October 16, 2021 ~ Beth ~ 5 Comments

sunflower field / rejoicing hills Earlier this week I got to say goodbye to a dear friend for the last time on this earth.

The doctors expected her to go anytime. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t see. They weren’t really letting people in to visit anymore. But Walt told me, his voice getting husky with emotion as we walked down the hall to her room, that she could still hear, and if I wanted to slip in for a few minutes to say something to her, I could.

As I knelt next to her bed, I was quiet for a few minutes, a flood of emotion overwhelming me as I gazed at her laying there. It’s interesting, isn’t it, what comes to your mind in moments like these? For me it was a flood of snapshots, little memory pictures that added up to the big picture of who she was and what she had taught me in the short four and half years I had known her.

I didn’t see the tired, wasted body struggling to bear the final pains of heart failure. I saw a beautiful little woman with sparkling eyes and spiky silver hair.I saw the perfect stitches on a lovingly hand-knit afghan she gave me at my first baby shower, all soft and yellow, like a new baby chick.

I remembered how she loved things that sparkled and how she’d end a funny story with, “…and we laughed until we were just sick!”

I saw and remembered the multiple times she had welcomed us into their tiny home with genuine delight and beautiful old-fashioned hospitality. I saw the perfectly set table, surrounded by the sturdy wooden benches she was so proud to tell us Walt made, with tiny individual salt and pepper shakers sparkling by each place. I remembered how she’d set out pickles and olives for us to nibble on beforehand, and wouldn’t let anyone help with the dishes. I remembered how she loved to serve things to her guests that were just a little out of the ordinary and special, like apples in a ham sandwich or the addition of tiny dainty dumplings to a pot of chicken soup. I remembered rhubarb slush and split pea soup and boiled dinner, and the huge jar full of more kinds of tea than I even knew existed.

I remembered the time I was standing in the back of the church with a restless little one, and witnessed her slip her arm around her husband and tuck her hand lovingly into his back pocket as they leaned their silvery heads together for the closing prayer. It was the perfect picture of a sweet marriage relationship that had spanned over 60 years, the rare kind that everyone wants but so few actually have.

I remembered how sometimes I’d be sitting at the piano playing the prelude before Sunday morning service began, and she would pipe up from her seat near the back, “Sing it for us, Beth!” And I would, even though an impromptu solo was the last thing in my mind, because you couldn’t say no when Dee asked. I remembered the favorite hymns she’d always request, and how she convinced us to try “O Holy Night” from memory when we came caroling at their house one December eve.I remembered all these things about her, and more, and I knew I would miss her for all of them. But the most beautiful thing of all about her, and the thing I knew I was going to miss the most was her passionate love for the Lord. She was so eager to learn and understand His Word, so genuine in her enthusiasm over what He meant to her. Her’s was that enviable joy that transcends circumstance, that had come forth as gold through the hard times of life. Her faith was an inspiration to all of us who knew her. I could still hear her voice, piping up strong and joyful from the usual back pew in answer to my husband’s request for people to share what they were thankful for: “Salvation, full and free.” That day was to be one of her last Sundays at church, though no one guessed it at the time, and she was struggling with health problems even then—but the confidence in her voice still echoes in my mind.

And the echo of that simple statement was why, as I looked down at her and the tears slipped down my cheeks, I realized that I was not crying from sadness but from joy.

Here she was, right on the doorstep, going to see the glorious completion of that salvation full and free at any moment. I couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than the moment when she would open her eyes and see heaven and her Savior for the very first time.

And considering that I looked forward to doing the same one day myself, it didn’t really seem right to say goodbye. Instead I leaned down and said softly: “I’ll see you later, Dee. Will you tell Jesus hello for me when you get there?”A few short hours after sunrise the next morning, we received word that Dee had gone home to be with the Lord. And it seemed quite appropriate that I had already chosen these photos of this gloriously happy field of sunflowers to share with this post. If any flowers symbolized the life she had lived, they did, with their brilliant golden faces standing unashamedly tall and joyful, always turned towards the sunshine. Over there, on a beautiful golden shore, she was lifting her face with joy towards the Son with nothing between for the very first time.

It was our loss, but her gain—and I was glad.

Ten Things To Do When Swamped With Cucumbers

September 8, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

At this time of the year when I walk outside, the call of the fields and forest gets somewhat dimmed by the call of the garden. Out in the woods, the ferns are curling up brown and everything is in that sort of awkward transition between summer and fall. But in the garden, at least the one I planted this year, everything is just reaching it’s most splendid peak.

And so that’s where I go, taking my camera with me to document the discoveries of dark round watermelons beneath notched leaves, big orange pumpkins and shiny purple eggplant. And the little yellow cucumber flowers, bright like little stars amidst the delicately serrated edges of leafy vines.And then I dig down beneath those leaves, and I fill the wheelbarrow with cucumbers (and zucchini—but that’s another story) and I bring them up to the house, stack them up like cord wood on the kitchen table and wonder what in the world I’m going to do with them all.Honestly, I thought I had planted just the right amount (just one hill, so we could eat them fresh), but lo and behold, I was wrong. We are drowning in cucumbers—and we still have pickles in the basement from last year! What do you do when you don’t need pickles and a daily whole fresh cucumber for lunch is getting a little old? Well…

You give thanks for the abundance. It is truly a blessing to have my cup—er, wheelbarrow—overflow with produce, even if it is a bit of a scramble to use them all up before they spoil.
You research the amazing health and home benefits of cucumbers to boost cucumber enthusiasm house-wide. Did you know that a single cucumber contains pretty much all of the vitamins your body needs for one day? Or that cucumbers are good for treating both high and low blood pressure? Or that you can use cucumbers on sunburns just like aloe vera? Or that if you rub a slice of cucumber along a squeaky hinge, it will stop squeaking? There’s a great list with more fun health benefits and uses here. I’ve always liked cucumbers and after reading this, I finally know why!
You slice them up thin and use them in lieu of lettuce in sandwiches. Or you skip the bread and stuff a hollowed out cucumber with the sandwich fillings. We tried ham and cream cheese—yum!
You put them in all tossed salads and try to keep the ratio of lettuce to cucumber somewhat reasonable, so you can still call it a lettuce salad, because…
You also make cucumber salad, which is different. This version with tomatoes, avocado and feta cheese is my new favorite this year!
You make gyros with cucumber sauce. (This probably qualifies as my top favorite way to dispose of cucumbers.)
You make cucumber-and-cream-cheese tea sandwiches (and cucumber-tomato-mayonnaise sandwiches if your tomatoes are ripe, which mine are not). Only skip the tiny tea size and make them big.
You try every new and interesting recipe you can find. Nice to meet you, cucumber soup and cucumber chips.
You bless all your friends by smuggling them into the back seats of their cars as surprise gifts. (Just kidding—actually bringing a pile them to church with a “help yourself” sign attached might be a better idea!)
And if all else fails, you make a cake.

Because naturally a cucumber cake probably would be the last thing you think of. But no, I’m really not kidding on this one. There really is such a thing—and it’s delicious! (If you’re adventurous enough to try it, too, the recipe I used is here. I doubled the recipe—because, hello, we’re trying to use up cucumbers over here!—but stuck with a single batch of the frosting and used lemon juice instead of the elderberry cordial.)

“He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.” (Acts 14:17)

What are your favorite ways to enjoy the blessing of cucumbers?

End of Summer

August 28, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

This morning, as the mid-morning sun was making the dew on the spider webs sparkle, I rode my bike down the bumpy gravel road to Sheryl’s house. The bike trailer bounced behind me, heavy with my precious cargo of two little ones and a Bible tucked in the back pocket. I hoped I had estimated how long the ride would take me correctly; I didn’t want to miss out on the sweet fellowship time beforehand!

This is the third summer we’ve spent studying the 23rd Psalm. What precious times we’ve had together going slow through the beloved familiar passage, sometimes word by word, soaking it in, mining the depths of Scripture for quantities of treasure that we never dreamed could exist in the space of so few words. And now it was all over until next year. Today was the last day, our sweet weekly summer gathering coming to a close just as the calendar was gently finishing August. The ditches were full of goldenrod and lavender clouds of asters, and the banks of ferns were curling up brown around their lacy edges. Yes, my eyes told me, as I focused up on the landscape around me and away from the dusty road beneath my tires: fall was really almost here.I’m really sorry to bid this summer adieu, because it’s been such a good one. Beautiful fellowship with these dear sisters in Christ has been just one of the highlights of this season for me. As I meditated back over the passage we had been studying, somehow the other happy memories and pictures of this summer seemed to intertwine in my mind with the words of the psalm. And so in honor of the end of a glorious season and those precious weeks of study we savored together, I present this photographic essay of my summer and Psalm 23:

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…He leadeth me beside the still waters…He restoreth my soul…He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me…Thou preparedest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over…Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Amen.

Ruffed Grouse

August 14, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

Look what I shot the other day from the car window!

(No, no—not literally! You know, with the camera.)

We have an abundant population of ruffed grouse in our area, and we hear the males drumming frequently, but they’re rather skittish birds and challenging to photograph. So I was pleased when this one sat still and eyed me warily long enough so I could step on my brakes, roll down the window and take its portrait. (Hooray for country dirt roads where you can do that!) I didn’t have a telephoto lens on, so this isn’t exactly a close-up—but I can’t complain about the scenery he chose to pose in front of! Haven’t the daisies been gorgeous this year?!

I drove past the same spot the following week and everything was mowed back, chopped off low and rough for safety purposes. Even if my little grouse friend had reappeared, the photo could never have been the same again. Thinking about that, I was reminded of not just the fleetingness of photo opportunities, but of the golden opportunities that come our way in life, and these words of wisdom:

“Be very careful, then, how you live–not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.” (Ephesians 5:15-16)

Make the most of the opportunities you are given, whether great or small—you never know whether they may gone forever tomorrow!

In Search of: Wild Raspberries

August 12, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

The golden rays of the sinking sun slanted down through the treetops as we worked our way carefully along the brushy edges of the narrow lane, searching. There were no buckets present; this excursion was not for duty or mass accumulation, but sheer enjoyment. We ate them as fast as we found them, fingers soon stained with streaks of red. It was an evening for one of summer’s best simple joys: picking wild raspberries.Excursions to the local u-pick berry patches with their neatly mulched rows and abundant berries are a yearly tradition that I love and look forward to. Earlier this week, I brought home buckets full of blueberries; a couple weeks ago, it was buckets full of strawberries. But there’s nothing quite like venturing out into the woods to find them growing wild. You know—where the value of the berries acquired is in direct relationship to the amount of scratches on your ankles and arms, the number of mosquitoes and deer flies swatted, and the quantity of burrs stuck to your clothing and hair. And where you may go searching only to find that the bears have beat you to them, like they or some other hungry four-footed creature did to my secret gooseberry patch last week! Though thankfully (or would that be regretfully?) I have never had the pleasure of actually meeting a bear while out picking!

But the rewards of your labor are berries with flavor that no cultivated varieties can ever quite manage to live up to. Entirely worth the trouble. And, like I said, best eaten straight off the bush.

I wonder if God smacked His lips when He made raspberries? Certainly He must have smiled to Himself as He anticipated our enjoyment of them!

“And God said, “Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit. You shall have them for food”…And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1:29, 31)

With the memory of sweet-tart sun-drenched berry juice fresh on my mind, yet again, I have to agree.

This is the Day

August 3, 2015April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

One morning a couple weeks ago I heard a great commotion of twittering and chattering out on the porch, and I ran out none too soon. The first baby swallow had dared to fly from the nest to a nearby plant-hanging bracket, and his parents were circling the porch, excitedly encouraging him on. By late afternoon, all four of them were gone, off to join the swooping scores of swallows that dance in the sky above our farm everyday.

It’s kind of a happy-sad thing to see them go. Happy because that’s exactly what they’re supposed to do and I don’t have to clean bird droppings off my porch floor anymore; sad because I’ll still miss their happy sounds, looking up to see them peeking over the edge of their nest at me, and watching them grow. This week, my baby turned one. She also started experimenting in the realm of walking. Right now she still tends to revert back to her (very skilled) version of a crab crawl after a couple wobbly steps, but I know soon enough she’ll be off and running, ready to explore the world. These days of her helpless sweet littleness are flying by so fast.

Again, that happy-sad feeling. The joy of watching her grow and learn and become her own little person is as great as the wistfulness I feel as I watch these precious baby years slipping away.

I thought about this as I watched those little birdies all fly away, and it was such a good reminder for me to cherish the sweetness amidst the chaos (because, yes, I have to admit that teething and dirty diapers are not always so sweet). Tomorrow, next week, next year there will be new joys, new sorrows. There will be new things to say goodbye to, and new things to welcome. But today with it’s unique gifts, challenges and blessings will never come again. David says it so well:

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24)

This is the day to savor the way she reaches up her little arms to be held, and the way she pops her thumb in her mouth and lays her little curly blonde head on my shoulder when she’s tired. This is the day to rejoice in the sound of her chanting “ma-ma-ma-ma” like I’m the most wonderful person in the world and the way she squeals and giggles when she sees a furry animal (stuffed or alive). This is the day to take videos of her trying to figure out how to put her own shoes on, and take pictures of the look on her face (very pleased) at her first taste of the frosting on her birthday cake, and write down that she said “uh-oh” when she dropped her ball over the edge of the couch. Yes, this is the day.

What has God given you today? What fleeting opportunities are there for you to seize? What precious memories are there for you to take joy in the making of? May you find them and rejoice in them greatly!

(See here and here for the rest of the story and pictures of these swallows!)