It was a long, happy weekend of giving thanks. During family dinner as the silverware clinked on fine china, then again later as wedges of pie were passed, between friends, during joyful church services and into microphones, I heard people express gratefulness for so many beautiful things.
Some were humorously indicative of current life situations, such as…
“Getting 24-hour flu instead of a prolonged cold.”
“All the snow melting so I don’t have to plow.”
“Lefse.”
“Baby sleeping through the night.”
Others were sweetly tearful, deeply emotional, such as…
“Healing.”
Long lists of volunteer services.
“A phone call from a long lost family member.”
“You.”
After all the feasting and gathering was over, I took an evening walk under leaden skies, picking my way along the the icy ruts of our driveway as I mentally added a few more things to the list, like:
“Cartons of freshly laid brown eggs in my fridge.”
“Homemade brown sugar hazelnut lattes.”
“The sound of little feet pitter-pattering down the hall.”
It was a wonderfully cheering thing to do on an otherwise drab evening. But then this happened:
The dim, dreary skies lit unexpectedly up with all this splendor that kept going and going and going and wouldn’t stop. I paused to notice the first flush of pink, and then stopped to watch in awe as it spread and rippled and flamed across the entire canopy of the heavens curving over my world. Then the coyotes started to yap far off in the forest, and I thought about the fact that there’s more than one way to make your voice heard.
People say it with words, the animals with their own unique sounds, the sky with color, each one declaring thanks and glory. Yes, glory!
For the small things, for the large things, in all things.
To God, our Creator, Giver, Sustainer.
Because giving thanks really is just another way of giving glory.
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)
“All Your works shall give thanks to You, O LORD, And Your godly ones shall bless You.” (Psalm 145:10)
Run, slide, repeat.
Ah, winter with all your juxtapositions of icy beauty and cozy routines—how glad I and my sleek fun-loving neighbors are to welcome you back!
It should be noted that, since there is no hunting season on shooting photographs, I generally secure my photographic venison on whatever random day of the year and in whatever random location (
See? There he went, after that long curious look, finally deciding to flee the lady with the giant black eye. He will, however, have to call upon more wariness than that if he doesn’t wish to be caught by his foolish hesitation and end up in small packages in someone’s deep freeze within the next couple weeks!
Where do you look when you are hiking through the autumn forest?
Do you look straight ahead, at the path winding mysteriously out of sight and beckoning you on? At the receding layers of craggy barked tree trunks marching along its edges, with the occasional surprise mushroom accessory? Or at the jaunty straw hat and satisfyingly fall-ish plaid shirt of a walking companion ahead?
Or do you look down? Down at the dainty trailing vines between the tufts of orange pine needles, and the tidily capped wee mushrooms springing whimsically up along the damp mosses of aging stumps? At the calico of autumn leaves softly layering over the creeping cedar and wintergreen?
While I was hiking with relatives recently, we talked about this, and discovered that our answers differed. Some in our hiking party were more inclined toward one than the other, therefore each bringing their own unique perspective to the commentary that enlivened our exploration of the forest.
The Bible calls these things gifts, and they are. Sometimes, though, I think we can lose sight of this in the nitty-gritty of real life. It can be easy, for instance, to get annoyed with that other person who is always worried about mowing the grass (looking at mushrooms) when you’d rather be discussing the accuracy of the latest Bible translation (looking down the path)—or vice versa. However the fact is that each perspective is valuable and needed, and they’re all meant to weave together in harmonious balance, not at odds with each other.
“Just as each of us has one body with many members, and not all members have the same function, so in Christ we who are many are one body, and each member belongs to one another.
Lately there’s been a lot of extra activity around my flower pots and garden. Maybe it’s because they all know that cold weather is right around the corner, and aren’t lulled into complacency by the recent heat wave like the rest of us. At any rate, the hummingbirds, butterflies and bees have been busier among my flowers than they’ve been all summer. In fact, they’ve been so absorbed in the accumulation of nectar and pollen that they’ve hardly seemed to mind when I came by with my camera.
“My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.
To drink to the fill and be completely satisfied, as He promises.
Orange has been one of my favorite colors for a long time. It’s an accent color used quite sparingly in nature, though—and that’s why I was so pleased to find a rowan tree growing in our own backyard. It’s lacy pinnate fronds are ever graceful and attractive in their own right, but the fruit clumps that ripen to a vibrant orange in late summer are certainly my favorite feature.
I almost missed him there on the ground. Amidst the bark and leaves, the neutral shades of his feathers had blended in so well I literally almost stepped on him. Then, when I did notice him just in time, I wondered if something was wrong with him. Surely he would have flown away sooner otherwise? But I think he wanted his picture taken. I got within three inches with my camera before he finally took flight. Lucky for me, he seemed quite unafraid of the big black lens!
It took six hours of driving to get there.
The bad news, however, is that when we arrived at the much-anticipated first scenic viewpoint, all we could see was white.
Because sometimes, you just need to go higher and then everything becomes clear.
We had to shout to hear each other as we climbed the spray-soaked stairs and rocks. Up among the dark leaning cedars, past graceful ferns and wild lily of the valley, holding small hands fast as we peered over rocky ledges. At Bond Falls, it was not hard to imagine this:
Meanwhile, the little girls made friends with the ducks that came begging along the quieter edges of the river for handouts…
…and got to admire the rare wood turtle their 
So, was the highlight of this vacation day actually visiting a waterfall, as the title of this post might indicate, or was it getting up close to the animals living around it? The answer to that might vary depending on which of us you asked, but in my humble opinion, the beauty of each served to compliment and enhance that of the other…
There are two things that cause writer’s block for me: having nothing to say, and having altogether too much to say.
Rejoicing Hills 