About the pictures: In spite of cancelled and missed flights and stolen phones, we made it to Minnesota to celebrate a belated Christmas with both of our families. These were taken at my family’s home, the house I grew up in. Story times with grandpa were a highlight, as were snow time with the aunts and uncles and my brother’s crab Benedict.
The verse I spent time thinking about this week: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4) Why is that we’re so quick to feed our bodies liberally, even excessively, but so willing to leave the very essence of ourselves, our soul, malnourished and shriveling away in starvation? Here’s to a year of being well-fed and satisfied on the Word of God!
P.S. I took pictures for this project, but had limited internet while we were traveling and was unable to post them. I’ll be playing catch-up over the next week or so and resume weekly posting thereafter! Also, normally I will be posting one photo per week, but since we were traveling and I took more pictures than usual, you get a few bonus shots!
If you’re new here, this is part of my Project 52, in which I commit to taking and posting a photo per week for the duration of 2022, along with sharing a favorite verse and/or thoughts gleaned as I also read through the Bible in a year. I’d love to hear what stood out to you in your personal Bible reading this week in the comments!
At the top of the sledding hill, the soft whir of tiny wings and the pleasant songs of chickadees surrounded me. They were dancing among the slender tree branches, up above my head against the deep blue of the afternoon sky, taking turns bobbing in and out of the dangling feeder.The rust-breasted nuthatch didn’t stir from his post on a square of suet as well-bundled sledders shouted their way down the hill, not even when I dared peek around the tree trunk to get a better look at him. In fact, he turned out to be a bit of a show off. Bet you can’t hang upside down while eating a chunk of lard. 
He looked at me skeptically, so I figured I’d better prove my point. I left him and his feathered friends to their feast, and down I went, small daughter tucked securely between my knees, flying over the bumps on the snowy track in the direction of the cattails. Down at the bottom of the hill, where the sun was laying long shadows across the river bed, there was an explosion of powder as the sled hit previously un-excavated snow. I shouted in triumph. My daughter, with a surprise face full of powder puff snow, was not so impressed. There were tears, then sniffles, then, to my relief, giggles as a generous sled ride up the hill was offered as recompense.
As I paused briefly to catch my breath, I noted that the birds were still bobbing and flitting in and out of the swinging feeders at the top of the hill. In the midst of this long, hard winter, they were obviously grateful for kindness of these and other thoughtful neighbors that make their daily food search easier. I am grateful to the same neighbors for letting us take over their steep back yard for an afternoon. Also grateful for the warmth exertion supplies, coupled with the sunshine that made it seem not quite as cold as the thermometer read.
At the top, I gave my older daughter a hearty push for a solo trip down the hill, then opened the screen door for Miss Purple Mittens to head happily indoors to hot chocolate. (Bless you, Martie, for that!) I deliberated over which child to follow—but then a large hairy woodpecker swooped in and made my decision easy. Perhaps the only thing quite fascinating enough to distract me from sledding or a good hot drink is a compelling photo opportunity.
Rejoicing Hills 