Venturing West: The Long View

June 2, 2016October 16, 2021 ~ Beth ~ 5 Comments

For all the outdoor beauty we enjoy here in Minnesota, I must admit that there is one thing we’re a little short on, and that’s the long view. I do love all our trees, but thanks to those thick forests the places where you can stand and see for miles are somewhat few and far between. Which is why, when I travel to places like North Dakota and Montana as we had the opportunity to do this last month, I can hardly get enough of those endless scenic vistas. I love to see the beautiful, raw curves and contours of the land, love to see distant hills fading away in shades of blue and purple to the horizon, love the way those vistas kindle my imagination with the possibilities of what may lie even further beyond.

It’s in moments like those that I sometimes find myself wishing that life itself was a little more like standing on the edge of a continual scenic vista and not quite so much like plugging along through the thick forest with no idea what’s around the next bend. You know, being able to see into the future and knowing the purpose and end result of things instead of always wondering. Have you ever wished for that, too?

In some ways, that’s just how it is to be human. We aren’t all-knowing or all-seeing like God is. That’s why we have to trust in Him and lean not on our own understanding, because He’s the only one who can see the long view. That necessary dependence is part of the beauty of our relationship with Him.

Yet recently I happened upon a passage in His Word that, interestingly, does promise a certain amount of special vision for the righteous. In this particularly beautiful chapter in Isaiah, “sinners in Zion” and “the godless” are terrified after hearing of God’s promised judgement and ask:

“Who among us can live with the consuming fire? Who among us can live with continual burning?” (“burning” being a picture of the judgement that is prophesied to come)And God answers with that beautiful balance of justice and mercy befitting His character: “‘He who walks righteously and speaks with sincerity…
…he who rejects unjust gain and shakes his hands so that they hold no bribe…
…he who stops his ears from hearing about bloodshed and shuts his eyes from looking upon evil……he will dwell on the heights, his refuge will be the impregnable rock……his bread will be given him, his water will be sure…

…your eyes will see the King in His beauty; they will behold a far-distant land.'” (Isaiah 33:14-17)

That last little line is my very favorite part. Isn’t it beautiful? To those who walk according to His ways, He does give, among many other wonderful gifts, without negating our need to walk in faith, a glimpse of that long view and those distant horizons, or, as another translation puts it “the land that stretches afar”.

He’s not talking about physical scenic vistas here, breathtaking as those are. I don’t even think He’s necessarily talking about knowing the future. Instead, He’s promising the righteous spiritual eyes to see above and beyond the figurative forests humankind stumbles through, and to see instead His ways and His will—and ultimately, to see to the farthest horizon where the glory of eternity with Him awaits. To see things from His perspective.It’s like being given a pair of God-shaped binoculars. And, really, can you think of anything more breathtaking?

P.S. Yes, this trip out west is the reason you haven’t heard from me here in a while—but my camera was busy while we were away. Stay tuned for more soon!

Triumph of the Tulips

May 7, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

You watched them get planted. You watched them grow up through the snow. It only seemed fair that you should get to watch them bloom, too!This story wouldn’t be complete, however, unless I told you about the very last piece of adversity they had to come through to reach this glorious moment of full bloom.Yep. This would be the guilty culprit, caught in the act of walking nonchalantly into our front yard in broad daylight. No shame whatsoever.

One morning, I looked out the front window at my flower garden as usual, and my jaw dropped open. There were literally half as many tulips in the garden as there had been the day before. I guessed that it had been the deer even before I ran out and found the cloven hoof prints clearly defined in the soft garden dirt.

I wasn’t about to watch the tulips I had waited for all winter be systematically consumed by deer who have the entire national forest at their disposal for dinner, without even getting to watch them bloom! Where there is a will, there is a way—and bird netting was the answer.

A few days later, under their protective veiling, fat buds on the surviving plants emerged and blushed coral-pink. Yesterday I took it off for good, as they opened their glowing petals to the morning sunshine for the very first time. They had persevered through winter, unexpected spring snowstorms and foraging deer—and somehow that made the triumph all the more joyful!

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4)

“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.” (James 1:12)

Pasque Flower

May 3, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

One of the earliest, loveliest flowers of spring is the pasque flower. While it doesn’t appear naturally up here in the northwoods, you have only to drive west to the prairies to find it growing wild and free in its native habitat. It’s also known as ‘wild crocus’—but I have to say I prefer it’s French name. I like the appropriate sophistication it lends to such a lovely bloom—but even more, I appreciate a deeper significance to the name that is likely lost on most people.

And what’s the significance? ‘Pasque’ is a word derived directly from the word ‘Passover’, making its name, literally, ‘Passover flower’—and at least this year, it seems to be quite appropriately named. On the very weekend I knelt on the brick walkway of my parent’s flower garden to photograph its first blooms, the actual Jewish celebration of Passover was in full swing (April 22nd-30th).

For the Jews, it’s a celebration to commemorate the night of the tenth plague in Egypt, some 4,000 years ago, when the angel of death passed over their homes, sparing their first-born children at the sight of the blood of an unblemished lamb painted on their doorposts.

For me, it’s a celebration that reminds me that Death has passed over me, also, having seen that I, too, am covered by the blood of the unblemished Lamb of God.

“…and when I see the blood I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 12:13)

“…you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ.” (1 Peter 1:18-19)

“For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival…“ (1 Corinthians 5:7-8)Dare I say that the celebration of Passover holds even more significance for me as a Christian than for any Jew? Hallelujah!

Rushing River

April 26, 2016April 26, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

We were standing at the edge of a steep bank. Late afternoon sunlight slanted gold through pine branches over our heads, highlighting the moist hummocks of brilliant green moss creeping along the slanting forest floor. Below us, a river, satiated with a deluge of rapidly melting snow, rushed it’s wild, joyful way down to bigger waters. The music of its abundant fullness reminded me of this verse:

“If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'” (John 7:37-38)

A little river like this, wildly overflowing with springtime run-off, is exactly what I picture a life looking like as the fulfillment this verse. A life so brimful of Christ that it can’t even hold the goodness back—it pours out in utter abandon, literally gushing with the joy of it.

And the good news is: in our case, the source never diminishes like the banks of melting snow eventually will for this little river. The invitation is always open, the supply is endless. The only way we can possibly dry up is if we quit coming and drinking.

And how do you come and drink? It’s simple. Spend as much time as you can with Him. Read His Word. Talk to Him.

“Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)

May the river of living water that flows from you as a result be one hundred times more wildly beautiful and joyful than this one.

Barred Owl

April 18, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 2 Comments

I’ve heard him call the question distinctively across the lake at dusk before. Or sometimes its from the swamp along the winding stream bed across the field.

“Who-cooks-for-you? Who-cooks-for-you?”

A questioning voice without face its been, echoing through the woods, a mysterious and unseen part in the rich soundtrack of our little corner of the world. I’ve always been intrigued, but I’ve never had a chance to meet him face to face and give a courteous answer to the query.

That all changed this week. I was on my way to an early morning appointment, coming around a curve in the road. Suddenly the craggy tip of the dead tree at the side of the road blinked at me.

Whoa.

I didn’t exactly slam on the brakes, but I did come to as an abrupt a halt as was safe under the circumstances. I looked at the clock, decided I had five minutes to spare and put the car into reverse.

He’ll probably take a scare when I back up the car and fly off, I told myself—but it was worth a shot. And wonder of wonders, he stayed put as I slowly backed up, rolled down the window and focused my camera (that just happened to be fitted with a telephoto lens and sitting on the seat next to me). In the back seat, small girls oohed and aahed excitedly as he comically swiveled his head back and forth.

And then he was off, winging silently through the brown forest. And in all the excitement of seeing him through my lens, I had forgotten to answer his question. Was that why he sat and waited there so long?

But I’d miss the sound of his silly question echoing from the woods on starry nights—so maybe it’s just as well that I forgot.

“There the owl nests and lays and hatches and gathers her young in her shadow; indeed, there the hawks are gathered, each one with her mate.“ (Isaiah 34:15)

“O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” (Psalm 104:24)

Pussy Willows II

April 11, 2016April 11, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 5 Comments

The pussy willows popped out early this year during a premature but short-lived warm spell, and have since seemed to be somewhat frozen in time as they wait for the warm weather to return. I happened upon these while I was walking along a stream stalking an otter, who I’m pretty sure was laughing at my clumsy attempts to avoid detection. He wasn’t interested in having his picture taken. These spring beauties were much more obliging, however, and I was happy to come home from my photographic ramblings not entirely empty-handed!

Sometimes we do not get exactly what we want, but there is always something good and beautiful to be found in the midst of failure or disappointment—if we believe and are willing to open our eyes and look for it.

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.“ (Romans 8:28)

In Whatsoever State I Am

April 6, 2016April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 3 Comments

So—remember those bulbs I buried hopefully in the fall? I thought you’d like to know—they survived the winter! And they’ve not only survived in spite of all prowling chipmunks, but are also growing steadily up in spite of, ahem, the wide variety of weather conditions that have comprised our spring thus far!

Today, while my sick children blessedly napped and I sipped tea to soothe my own racking cough, I looked at them all shivering out there in the flower bed, perky double-winged leaf shoots cupping the flakes of spitting snow as the wind whistles around the house. They were a quiet but poignant little reminder to me on a not-so-ideal day of this verse:

“…for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content…”

Some days, as Paul goes on to admit, are harder than others (and trust me, the hardships he had to face would make this unpleasant sick day at home seem like a picnic in the park!),

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.“

But the key to it all?

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:11-13)

And for that, I am grateful.

Narcissus

April 2, 2016April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

Whenever I watch green shoots rise from dry, brown bulbs buried in the earth and burst into triumphant bloom, it’s hard not to see a picture of the Resurrection.

It was no exception when I planted a pot of narcissus bulbs at the end of February, looking forward to a little jump start on spring while the tulips still waited under the snow outside. I took photos as they grew, hopeful green rising to the sun, and then blossoming fragrant white in the center of the table in our sun porch. This would be the perfect set of photos for Easter, I thought, and had every intention of posting them on here in time for the holiday.

But then, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of early-morning church breakfasts and services and a house full of feasting and family for a whole day, I never even touched the computer. The fact that I had missed my intended holiday posting date didn’t occur to me until the next morning—and then it was too late.At first I was disappointed. But then, as I sat in the sun porch the next morning, watching a wet and pearly gray dawn wash over the dining room table still wearing it’s candles and best white tablecloth from Sunday’s celebration, I suddenly realized that it was okay after all. Maybe, even, it was for the best.

Because while Easter Sunday is full of celebration, and multiple reminders at every turn to rejoice, this ordinary gray day with the raindrops making dents on the mud puddles in the brown yard and the pile of dirty dishes staring at me from the sink was decidedly lacking in reminders. There were no happy church breakfasts, with the men in aprons flipping pancakes in the kitchen and the ladies dressed in bright spring pastels sitting around tables set with jars of fresh-cut pussy willows. There were no jubilant strains of “Up From the Grave He Arose” soaring to the church rafters while the white lilies nod in front of the pulpit. The quantities of ham and cheesy potatoes that got served to a houseful of family had been consumed and we were back to oatmeal for breakfast. How quickly the spirit of celebration had faded away into everyday humdrum!

But as another favorite Easter song goes: “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow…and life is worth the living, just because He lives.” Though practically we can’t spend every day of the year dressed up in our best clothes, sitting around white-clothed tables laden with pots of yellow tulips and two whole mocha brownie tortes served on best china, I think it goes without saying that, deep down in our hearts, this spirit of joy and celebration should carry on into every day of the upcoming year. Because if it wasn’t for Easter, everyday life literally would not be worth the living.And so, I’m here to wish you a Happy Easter with my flower photos after all, with no apologies for the fact that it’s a whole week late. Or, more correctly, to declare, as many pastors did last Sunday around the world, “He is risen!” Because it’s still as true today as it was that day and every other day of the year.

And may you be reminded, on this ordinary day of the week, to echo back with assurance:

“He is risen indeed!”

“Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you…that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures…” (1 Corinthians 15:1-4)

Trumpet of the Swan

March 13, 2016April 6, 2016 ~ Beth ~ 4 Comments

I must say that reading E.B. White’s whimsical classic, “The Trumpet of the Swan”, as a young girl did little to prepare me for hearing the real trumpet of a swan for the first time. Up until I got married, I had barely even seen a swan in the wild, let alone heard one. I thought it would be something like the honking of the Canadian geese that always flew over my childhood home in the spring and fall. I had no idea.Then, I got married and moved here—and the swans suddenly became an integral part of our lives. The first spring, we watched them perform their spectacular mating dances on the river outside of the front windows of the little resort cabin we called a temporary home. They showed up at our next home, too, where they nested on the lake our neighbors had access to. We never actually saw them, but the sound of their great beating wings and calls echoed over to us tantalizingly all summer long. And then we moved to our current home, and soon learned, to our great delight, that the little lake our farm bordered was the valiantly defended private nesting grounds of yet another pair of swans.

Now, their arrival every spring has become something to look forward to, something to mark the advent of the season by, and their trumpeting (which, it turns out, is nothing like to the honking of geese—that’s sort of like comparing the sound of a French horn to a car horn) is something we’ve learned to miss when ice locks the lake waters fast and they depart for the winter.

This year they’re back earlier than ever. I first glimpsed them three weeks ago, while it was still February, doing a fly over. Within a few days, I realized that they were coming here daily, camping out on the ice, apparently staking out their territory for the season. They’d leave in the evening, presumably to feed and join other swans on the open water of the river nearby, then return in the morning. At first they were silent, and it was pure chance that I even noticed the two lumps of white far out on the ice, heads tucked under their wings. Then, this weekend, a few other swans decided to come visiting—and I knew it from all the way inside the house, because the deep trumpeting was echoing far and wide across the lake and over the fields and through the trees. I stopped what I was doing and just listened for a few minutes, thrilling to the sound. The silence of winter was over; the trumpeting prelude to the grand symphony of spring had officially begun. It was glorious!

“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth! Make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise!…With trumpets and sound of cornet make a joyful noise before the Lord, the King!” (Psalm 98:4,6)

The Gift of Violets

May 26, 2015September 10, 2015 ~ Beth ~ 1 Comment

For years, it’s been my personal goal every spring to find every color of violet native to our area. (There are actually up to 17 species, but I limit my goal to the four colors—lavender, purple, yellow and white.) Some years, I have time to actually go search the woods for them, some years, I don’t—and this has been one of the latter. So you can imagine my delight when, over the last couple weeks, I stumbled—sometimes literally—across every single one without even trying!

I was the most excited, however, when I happened upon the sweet tiny white violets, which have always been the hardest for me to find. They are the smallest of the violet family, and the least showy—often their humble little faces are sweetly inclined toward the earth, hiding their purple-streaked hearts until you get down very low. They are so diminutive and unassuming, it’s easy to walk right past them, or even step on them without realizing it. But that makes them all the sweeter to me—and they’ve become my personal favorites.Aren’t they exquisite?

To me, the discovery of each of these little blossoms was a gift. A gift from a loving heavenly Father who knows the desires of my heart, even the small ones, and delights to give His children good things. I think He knew that all-four-colors-of violets were just what I needed to lift my spirits this spring. Whether He caused them to grow just where I would look, or guided my footsteps and eyes to just the right place at just the right time, I don’t know. But I do know that they caused me to smile and remember His lovingkindness as I knelt low to take their portraits.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights…” (James 1:17)

What gifts has He given you lately to remind you that He loves you?