Kitchen Memories: Winter’s Late Afternoon Light

The late afternoon sun throws rays of winter light across the kitchen, low and soft. Savory aromas rise from sautéing meat and simmering stock on the stove. Color rich vegetables lay diced across the cutting board and spices add to the scents wafting through the house. Candlelight flickers in the lengthening shadows on the counter top.

My thoughts slip back to decades ago. As a college student commuting between campus and my parent’s home, I would return from classes in the late afternoon dark of our far north region. Entering the warm house through the kitchen door I would be met by the subdued lighting under the cabinets illuminating my mother working at the counter surrounded by salad makings and the smells of supper warming on the stove. These treasured images evoked such comfort and affection. I have strived to recreate them for my own family across the years. Even in the years of a demanding career, preparing supper at home, reclaiming the house after the day’s absence, filling it with food aromas, it remained essential to create a haven that cradled myself and loved ones at the end of each day.

Warm light in the darkness, 

a safe haven, 

the promise of nourishment; 

all elements of a home …

all elements of a living faith.  

Nurture faith as you nurture loved ones. 

Guard faith as you guard the haven of your home.

Light a candle, 

put something on the stove,

savor the moment, 

offer whispers from your heart 

to our Lord.

* * * *

Linking with Laura’s community of writer’s over at “Play dates With God” and Jennifer's folks at TellHis Story.

Join us. We are sharing

our moments with God.

The Cusp of a New Year

Teetering on the edge of a year, 
on the end of another 365 days, 
a brisk glance back brings a few thoughts to mind;
some are simply musings.
Others, really essential.

1. It’s beneficial to record a list of the Books I’v read. For one thing, I surprised myself by the shear number of titles that I’v poured through this past year. 34 books, from several genres, on multiple topics, with faith, art, writing, and strong female characters being predominant themes across nonfiction and literature. Another benefit of the list are the cues offered in remembering titles and content, not to mention insight as to the ebb and flow of my interests, and finally, it makes recommending books easier. 
2. Fiction that taught me the most: Orphan Train and The Invention of Wings.
3. Memoir that made the most indelible impression: Lit by Mary Karr and The Sacred Journey by Buechner.
4. Writers greatly entertain me when they write about writing, such as The Memoir Project by Marion Smith and Pat Conroy’s, My Reading Life.  
5. Talking to my Pastor is something I’ll do more often. Especially when a well known, highly respected, Bible curriculum writer puts forth an interpretation that resonates badly with one’s heart. A good conversation on theology with a compassionate and learned pastor is enlightening, not to mention, good for the soul.
6. Being the Nana of 4 year old  twins is even better than being the Nana of three year old twins. Four year olds send you a hand signed Christmas card. Four year olds remember those swimming lessons that you and grandpa took them to. Four year olds ask their mother if they can call Nana (well, of course!). Four year olds ask “Can we make muffins?” and “What project did you bring for us to do together?”. 
7. Reflections are a second chance to see the wonder. I have taken to noticing the myriad of images that are reflected in our immediate environment. I wrote about it over here. It’s magical to consider the optical science at work in this often missed mirrored world that we pass through every day. It has become one more of those spiritual practices that I weave into my living in order to attend more closely to God’s complexity and awe.
8. Have no doubt. In the midst of wrapping worry around the world’s ongoing traumas and raging atrocities, I wrote here about those three words that rose to my attention last summer. Three words that remain bold within my heart, a bold proclamation of God’s Time regardless of what new year may be marked by mankind.
9. Time is rolling waves of blessed potential. Truly. Capture its gift with hungry hearts. This post last December recalled the words from the 90th Psalm. 
10. The New Year bells come faster across a lifetime; ringing out that snowy year in the seventies just old enough for the first toast with champagne, ringing out in ’81 with a newborn at my breast, ringing out in ’97 newly remarried walking home in the starlight and glitter of softly falling snow, ringing out in 2010 grateful for husband's restored health and the birth of infant grandsons, ...and here they are again, ringing out in 2014. 
11. God's blessings are abundant. Every season, every year. More on abundance over here. With vigilance the reward is sacred. Warm your soul in the abundance of God's grace this year and every year!

Linking with others pondering the New Year over at Emily's blog. Join us.
 We would be please to have you stop by!

A Second Chance to See Wonder

A heightened appreciation for reflections rose out of viewing the world through a camera’s lens. 

Consider the science of light and the multiple lenses, mechanical and biological that are at work as one’s brain receives and then interprets a reflected image. Imagine a flow chart of that: from the reflection’s source to the camera, through the eye, along the dendrites, picking up metaphors of meaning from amygdala’s treasure trove of emotion. 

Once the concept captured my attention, the presence of reflections became more abundant. The common images thrown back from blocks of storefront windows, shimmering puddles of rain, or the glassy, mirrored surface of water, certainly. But then the more subtle sources caught my eye. Reflected images etched on the surface of brewed green tea or in a flower’s mounded raindrop. Images bouncing back from the silver tray, the brass pendulum, and the glass door of the anniversary clock. The blue stained-glass cross reflected on a granite surface and the river rock repeated against dark pottery. 

From images of clouds viewed close-in and tiny on that orb of a raindrop, to images of lush shoreline seen from across the pond reflected back in the long length of wall to ceiling windows; our world is shimmered back for us, to appreciate, maybe without even turning around, to take second look. 

"See things from His perspective." Col. 3:1 MSG

To do so might change your perspective. It might prompt you to ponder how closely you’re looking at all that is before you. It might reveal bounty and wonders that have otherwise escaped your attention.

Linking with:

Still Saturday

Tell His Story

Weekend Brew

Click on their buttons listed below, to join writers in these communities.

Summer Remembrance

Early morning temperatures dipped by almost ten degrees this weekend, 

as August bids its 2014 adieu. 

The cooler morning offered a delightfully fresh hint of the next season, though we all know we still have many more weeks of extended summer that is par for our region. None the less, there was this brief interlude, this breath of coolness, this nod to softer days of less light and a planet tipping away from the sun’s blaze. Summer’s green begins to take on that more rustic shade, edged with crisped, drying hues. Blooms are worn, somewhat ravaged by the boldness of summer. The new blossoms are unfolding smaller, dropping petals sooner, there satin beauty not lasting as long as their predecessors. 

We turn to one another and say, Where did it go? 

Every season we say that. 

Remember when we were celebrating those glorious buds opening at the ends of stems and marveling at the late-into-the-evening sunsets painted orange across the blue sky. Remember children in the pool for hours perfecting their under water skills, extending their bravery in the deep end, diving endlessly to retrieve rings thrown to the bottom. Tomatoes and watermelon have been sweeter these recent months and sweet corn is still fresh in the produce department. Remember the lazier mornings of summer with coffee on the back porch, serenaded by birds, entertained by squirrels, and occasionally visited by that resident rabbit who lives in the Indian Hawthorn hedge. We watched lizards scamper across the top of the fence and fledgling Blue Jays teeter on the edge of their nest outside the bay window. We have watched Herons catch fish as turtles basked on the pond’s banks and the Mallards floated endlessly. 

And though the events of the world were far less bucolic through this summer, it remains important to remember that which was abundant, that which was brimming with blessing and goodness. In every season harken back to treasures that came your way, whispered from the heavens by God’s grace to season your life with His love and provision.

“I will remember the deeds of the Lord...” Psalm 77:11

                                                                               * * *

Linking with these communities of writers:

Still Saturday

The Weekend Brew

Tell His Story

Unforced Rhythms

Click on the text link or any of their buttons listed below to ponder God's leading here on the internet.

Slower Steps {Learning to Take the Long Way Around}

Taking shorter steps, slower steps, allows the early morning breeze to be savored, its banking, soft approach is noticed, its reoccurring wisps of cooler threads do not escape attention and are a welcome surprise this deep into the August summer. Freedom to take the long-way-around offers the most shaded canopy branching wide, ladened with the season’s full foliage. 

Passing the homes along each block ...

I’m aware that they’re likely empty on a weekday morning, just as my own was during the years of scheduled and contracted productivity. Occupants are at their office, at their desks, on their computers, attending to agendas, checking off lists, collaborating, reaching for goals, gaining information, experience, livlihoods...globally, homes are empty and work is moving history along.

Still walking, slowly... 

I recall the physical pace of those productive years. From the moment of leaving bed in the predawn of each day, the work day steps were accumulated with only occasional interruption, until back at home, end of day dishes were done, bath and stories were done, and all needs for the next morning’s departure were collected at the door. Steps were rarely short and certainly not slow. On arrival to campus, those steps were purposefully taken in a circuitous route, calculated to complete efficiently as many tasks as possible along the way, often in the company of twenty or so young students and the coral-ing of their many steps.

Crossing the street to follow the shade and the bend of the tree lined curb…                                                                    I ponder the process that took place to step out of that pace of daily living, to mentally step back from the persistent multitasking drive that accomplishes a never ending magnitude of responsibilities in the finite hours of a day. It was a process of gradual recalibrating of the priorities of time that allowed the external race walker to convert to walker seeking internal peace. Intentionally, it has become acceptable to take shorter steps and move at a slower pace. Not because I’m incapable of that meteoric pace, but because the value of attention to the bounty of this world, the bounty of  this fleeting life, can only be captured when its not being raced past in a blur. 
                                                       * * *

Transitions take so many forms and all are challenging. What motivates you to engage in the process, to 'slow your steps' or 'take the long way around'?

Linking with TellHisStory and Weekend Brew. Enjoy the photos and thoughts of these fellow writers by clicking on the links below.

Beaches

I linger over a photo of our precious little grandsons; 
standing side by side on the pristine beach, gingerly venturing out into the foaming surf, thrilled by the cold blue waves and the tickle of Gulf shore sand washing against their feet. 

In the way that thoughts wander, 
in my mind’s eye 
I travel across that same blue sea stretching vast across the planet 
to the Mediterranean shores where it is not safe for other little children to play. 
Places where wars rage.

Then I imagine being able to visually draw back from these beaches just as the satellites do; taking in more and more land mass until its the large curving surface of our living planet that is seen spinning endlessly beneath its cameras.

On that ever rotating mass of miraculous alchemy of water and earth 
there are billions of life incidents occurring. 
Billions of human actions taking place. Billions of actions enacted with mercy and compassion. 
And then there are the others. 

In seeking God’s peace
the response seemed to be, 
"Have no doubt."
All of it is enacted under the gaze of our Holy Creator God. 
And all of it will be redeemed by His incomprehensible power, 
in His good time.

"From heaven the Lord looks down

and sees all mankind;

from His dwelling place he watches

all who live on Earth –

he who forms the hearts of all,

who considers everything they do."

Psalm 33:13-15

                                                         ~

Linking with Emily, click here at Chatting At the Sky as we bloggers gather to muse over what we learned this summer and with Still Saturday where the gifts of Sabbath thoughts are shared.

Approach from a Different Angle

While squeezing some semblance of life out of hard, uncompromising circumstances solace arrived in the strength of a single wild bloom. 

During an early morning walk it appeared unexpected and incongruent, like a sun-yellow flag planted in a moonscape of rock. Living green and spiraled gold surrounded by the sharp edges of dry, nonsustaining stone. 

A water seeking, nutrient dependent creature can perish in such an environment. 

Living seems just so at times. All that is visible appears to offer not a mite of support to ease basic survival through treacherous times.

Approaching the bloom on the return circuit of the walk, passing by from a different angle, changed the perspective, changed the understanding. 

Consider instead, the protective qualities of impervious rock. No lawn mowing blades arrived here to slice through a wild bloom. Flooding rivulets of rain washing down the rocky bank were channeled around the shallowly rooted, errant seed until its roots grew a deeper grip. The sharp and uneven rock surfaces prevented the smooth terrain seeking footsteps of humans. 

The seemingly rigid and hard may be providential protection and an opportunity to thrive.

Revisit the harsh and uncompromising circumstances. It may be that the presence of sacred grace, a veiled blessing, is obscured by a narrow perspective.

                                             ~

You're invited to join other online Christian writers, as we celebrate faith with photography and prose. Simply click on the text link or the buttons below to link with:

Unforced Rhythms
Essential Devotions Friday
Give Me Grace

The Weekend Brew

Still Saturday
Tell His Story