That Time of Year

Looking out the window, the snow continues to remain. I think winter is finally here. Although there's talk of 40 degrees tomorrow, whatever melts will likely freeze by nightfall and be covered with more fluffy precipitation, at some point. Now that Thanksgiving is over, I gave into the kids' reminders of putting up the Christmas tree, and all the rest of the decorations. Our house is now aglow--cozy and warm, with the flicker of corn kernels, set aflame.

Sounds like a good place to camp out for the next 3 or 4 months, doesn't it? I did a lot of hibernating when I was on layoff. Too bad motherhood doesn't have a layoff period*LOL* My job was seasonal, so by the time the holidays rolled around, I was on break...until the next holiday, Valentine's Day, came. Then after everyone got their roses, and we were sure we didn't want to see another flower until spring, we were on break, again, until the end of March. Not a bad deal, if you ask me. So while winter is not my favorite season, it comes close to being so because of the slower pace and time to catch up on indoor projects. Also a good time to go cross-country skiing. I've made some tracks already in our snowy fields. Maybe I'll melt away the 'post-baby belly' after all.

I thought that this year, I wouldn't go Black Friday shopping, with the rest of the world, after how tired I was last year. Who really wants to get up at 3AM and stand in line? I heard that some stores were opening at midnight this year. I was tempted to go, but then sleep seemed more appealing by the time I would need to leave.

Instead, I got myself and our kids, on the road, by 10AM. We went to the mall and endured the crowds, lines, and outbursts of temper by both of my children. The screams, kicking and tears were flowing, quite freely, in one children's clothing store. My daughter, crying, wanted me to buy her boy's PJ's. I didn't care that they were boys, but did she really need another pair of footie jammies? My son was also crying because the snowman jammies he wanted didn't come in the footie style, but rather, in a 2-piece set. And he didn't want to give up the seat in the stroller, back to his sister. I think every person in that store could hear us(it wasn't a big store). But I calmly handed my payment to the gal at the register, not backing down on my position. I no longer sit in judgment of parents with screaming children. At times, I am one of them.

I promised them candy, out of the gumball machines, if they were good. I think they did pretty well, all things considered. We ate lunch in a food court that literally had only one table left. We shared a plate of Japanese food. For 6 bucks, the three of us ate lunch, sitting next to a mom and her daughter--out shopping together, getting some girl time. It was fun to talk to them, and not mind that we were strangers to each other. I was thankful that they let us sit next to them. I'm also thankful(not usually)for 25 cent machines that dispense small tokens of sweet silence!

Here's what I find funny, about Black Friday. They send you a paper that weighs about 3 pounds, chalk full of advertisements. The colorful ads promise good deals in the term of "Door Busters". So that somehow gets us wound up to go out at all hours of the night in order to satisfy our need for this or that item. People line up, shoulder to shoulder, at some places. Later on, the evening news appears, showing video footage of all these people and how bad it was that someone almost got trampled, trying to get through the doors of a toy store when they finally opened up.

Here's the kicker: they call it door busters for a reason. For some of us, just hearing it phrased that way may indirectly cause some of the negative behavior we see, played out in the masses. Maybe words are that powerful. What we see, read, or hear influences us, does it not? Or maybe we're just selfish by nature, and turn into tantrum-bound children, under the right environment. Just ask my kids.

I came home with a few goodies. Ironically, I have to go back up to that mall and make another exchange. I'm not doing well in judging how clothes really fit me, these days. All the jeans have spandex in them, which is great, but sometimes that denim stretches to a point of no longer staying on your bumper!*LOL* I'm glad that my favorite store allows returns on worn merchandise. That's how you know its a quality place to shop--when they can deal with picky customers, like me--then you know they're good.

The holidays are a great time of year. I'm so happy that my kids like Christmas music. Some of you may find it annoying because it seems to play earlier and earlier, with each passing season. But I really like it. It puts me in the right mood and helps me focus on what is important. We only get to sing these songs, once a year, so I'm taking in my full 6 weeks of enjoyment. In addition to the sounds, I love the lights, the smells and scents of burning candles, cookies baking, breads full of spice. It's a celebration that invokes all of the senses. No wonder we feel kind of a let down when its all over. A song I heard, recently, alluded to 'if only it were Christmas, everyday.' That might drive some of us a little nuts, but in my heart, it kind of is that way, for me. Without all the commercial fanfare, of course. Well, ok, maybe a little. Retail therapy?

This time of year, we often see family that is, more or less, not a part of our every day lives. That can be great, but it can also be stressful. I enjoyed Thanksgiving. I was sad that I didn't get to see those who couldn't make it, but overall, it was fun. No pressure to bring gifts, instead, making all the food. That's the busy part. The first Thanksgiving I hosted was an experience. I was pregnant, my mom was battling cancer, and I left half of the gizzards in the tail end of the bird!

I remember being so exhausted, trying to multi-task several dishes, all at once. But I was determined to do it. It would be the first, and only time, I could cook for my mom. She was pretty frail, by then. Our house tends to be on the cool side, so we put her chair right next to the corn stove. My grandpa also brought up his little fireplace heater so she could have extra heat while taking a nap. The table we set was so pretty. Guess I made my grandma proud that day. Maybe she was smiling down on us as we ate together.

Enjoy the time that you have with your loved ones. Make it a good memory to cherish and recall, so that when you have one of those days, you can pull out a picture of a good day, in your mind. Happy holiday season to you all. He is my reason for celebrating because He gave it all, for us.

Metamorphosis

One of things I enjoy, in raising our kids, is reading Eric Carle's "The Very Hungry Caterpillar", over and over again. Such a simple story, decorated with delightful paper mache images. Yet in its simplicity, the book communicates a great message to young and old alike.

Now that we're on the brink of an impending MN winter, I thought it would be fun to share this warm tale from one of our summer adventures. Enjoy!

"Last summer, we raised our first Monarch butterfly. It was a great experience; with a few failed attempts, we eventually succeeded. Adrian was so excited to see the transformation from a tiny little egg, to eating machine, to shiny green cocoon...and then, finally, a butterfly! The

whole process takes about a month. We find the eggs on the Milkweed plant, which is prolific throughout the countryside by our house.

Once inside the jar with holes atop, we watched the changes take place, day by day. To think that a creature with this kind of design, and intricacies, is deemed to have "evolved", seems ridiculous. Is there anything on earth, quite like the metamorphosis of the butterfly? The caterpillars know that they can eat only milkweed(occasionally, dill weed), making them poisonous to predators.

Having eaten just enough, these little wigglers shed their skin(multiple times), and when they are so full that they can hardly move, they hang upside down, turn themselves inside out, and become like "jelly"--inside the chrysalis. Once inside, all the cells and DNA are programmed to transform this colorful caterpillar into the majestic orange, white and black Monarch butterfly. The name means "King of Butterflies"--and we get to watch it all happen, right here in our own home. So cool.

This past July, we raised two butterflies--Adrian and Samantha's "pets". Our first one hatched on a Monday, after we got home from a short vacation. All was going well until she fell inside her jar. Normally, Monarchs hang from their empty shell for about a day, allowing their wings to dry and fully extend. Something was amiss with this butterfly. We took her out and let her sit out in the sun, on one of my flower pots, for a day. Next day still no change. She couldn't fly away and her wings seem kinda droopy.

I did some research and discovered that butterflies can be infected with a parasite called OE(short for Ophryocystis elektroscirrha). It's spread from the spores on the milkweed plant and can infect future generations of butterflies, especially if you don't sterilize your containers after the fact. Not for sure, but it could be a possibility. If this was the case, our butterfly would not learn to fly, no matter how hard she tried.

I read up on how to feed this poor butterfly and how long we could expect her to survive. It could be several days to weeks, depending on how much care she receives. As directed, I got a small piece of sponge and soaked it in sugar water. This little creature sat on my finger and drank from it's little straw(proboscis), right before my very eyes. It was amazing.

Even though this creature may never grace the blue skies above, the benefit is how close we've been able to get to her: to see her eyes, mouth--watch her eat, stroke her velvety wings. That would've never happened if she were fully developed and had flown away. The last two days, our Monarch friend has been sitting on my vase of flowers, in the kitchen window. This morning, she was glued to the screen, gazing outside as if she knew that was where she belonged.

While it was fun to have our little friend inside the house, I would be leaving on a trip in a few days: so out she had to go. I placed her on my flower pot and she remained there, as happy as a grounded

butterfly could be, until I left town.

Guess what? When I came home, 4 days later, I couldn't find our butterfly. I looked around the plant to see if she had expired, but didn't see a trace of her. A few days later, we were outside and we saw a Monarch fly by, like an airplane, doing take offs and landings--bouncing along.

As it glanced by, I noticed the lower wings were bleached white--suggesting it my have been our little friend. Because we fed her sugar water, her back wings had wicked up some of the moisture--several times--making the orange color fade to white. It was hard to prevent this from happening, and I wondered if that would make it harder for her to survive. Maybe she figured it out, after all!

I continue to be amazed at how great our God is. He wants to reveal Himself to us in big ways and small. The wonder of seeing this creature, up close and personal, was a teachable moment in our lives. Even though I'm mostly unaware of the changes occurring in my life, I have to trust that He is doing a good work in, and through, me. During those times when it feels like nothing new is happening...learning to wait for change to be revealed. In times when I'm so hungry, taking it all in--and being forced to shed my old ways of thinking, relating, parenting, living. One day, we will look in the mirror and see a reflection--recognizable as a "familiar presence", directing our lives. Until we fly away, it's a daily dependence on a Person who's ways are higher than ours."

(reference for my thoughts:2 Corinthians 3:17-18)

Linked in Love

Tonight, my mind is trying to process the many conversations I've had, in several circles, lately. The commonality between them all is the fact that so much of what we make much of, really isn't. Human beings like hanging out with others that think like they do, walk like they walk, talk like they talk. It's a comfort thing, I suppose. We feel safe and validated, knowing that we are among friends. Within 'the bubble', we may begin to believe, simply by association, that our choices are the best...dare I say, the right ones.

The other side of the coin would be diversity. The concept of being multi-cultural within our circles of community, having different life experiences and gaining valuable perspective from one another. What does this look like? What is it supposed to look like? When it doesn't happen, when do we decide to walk away and find another group where we 'fit in' better? We've all been there: on the school playground, in churches, study groups, the workplace, the lunch room, our own homes. How is it that we can feel so isolated within the irony of community?

When I was younger, some of my friends would affectionately call me 'Lizard'. Kinda paints a reptilian picture in the mind, doesn't it? I would often respond to that nickname with my eyes rolling (LOL). Not one of my favorites, as you can imagine. However, in today's world, I will gladly answer to the call of Chameleon. Yes, the reptile that changes color within its environment. The blending in is not to simply fit in, and be unnoticed. No, rather, I see it as finding common ground--whatever that may be.

There is freedom in letting go of your own agenda. You become aware of what is important, and what is not. I enjoy being around different circles of community, so long as I feel welcomed. You can almost taste the disdain when you are not. I remember, not so long ago, when I thought that the way to 'make friends' was to inform people of what I thought about "stuff". These were my life experiences, were they not? Yes, but they were also opinions that sometimes communicated a different message than I had intended: "you are not doing it the right way".

Even in theological discussions, which can cause rifts among us, we have to come back to the foundation. And that is Jesus, of course. Sometimes the opinions we have, about secondary issues, can become barriers if we wear them like a uniform or badge(who do we work for?). A friend once told me, "we all stand the same height at the foot of the cross." No one is on tip-toe, there. At some point, I had to look at the relationships that were forming around me. What is more important? That this person do what I do, or think like me...or, that they are in my life? What would Jesus do, if he were me?

Love is on the agenda. What would that look like, every day? I think it would look something like the Olympic symbol of rings: each one of them, intersecting with another, crossing paths, individual and yet, interconnected. So we can have our circles of familiarity, but allow ourselves to reach beyond that--becoming a person of influence rather than merely a person of opinion.

My Family Tree

Several years ago, a friend of mine, from work, showed me this picture of his crab apple tree. It was bizarre seeing a pink branch, blooming off a white tree. Obviously, he had grafted in this unfamiliar branch from another variety. As you can see, the graft took well, binding this new member into its family tree. It's amazing what can be done in the world of horticulture. Many varieties of roses, apple trees, and even some shade trees have been grafted on to different root stocks, for the purpose of giving those plants a better chance at surviving our Minnesota winters--and that, with the benefit of flowers and fruits, not normally suited to our environment.

This past weekend, we had a visit from our Omaha family. My step-dad, and a friend of the family, flew up for a day trip. It's great to have a pilot with an airplane, in your family, when 6 hours of driving and 280 miles are between us. We had lunch together, at our house. I decided to put a roast in the oven, complete with carrots, potatoes, onions--good comfort food. Jim and Linda brought a cherry pie from a favorite Omaha restaurant(thank you for that!), and I also baked the apple pie that we've all grown to love. Oh, and there is still broccoli in my garden. The last of the produce for the season. Every couple of days, I can pick enough to make a side dish for a meal. Gotta have something green, every day, right? It was nice, sitting on the front patio, watching Troy and Adrian in that roaring combine, filling up with corn, ever so quickly. We are having a good harvest, in Minnesota, this year.

When I try to explain my extended family, I usually lose new people in the translation of who's-who and how so-and-so are related to us. Why? Because my family truly is, extended...beyond the threads of DNA strands or even the bonds of marriage. It makes me appreciate the diversity of how we've come to know family, as it is. My parents, both remarried years ago, gave me extra parents--and in addition to my baby brother, a variety of new siblings. Some of whom I lived with while growing up. Others, I maybe have seen a handful of times, in my life. One big, happy family? Well...not always. We've had our share of dysfunction, like anyone out there.

Three weeks ago, I spent the weekend with another part of my family. I took the kids down to see my dad and step-mom, who live in southern Minnesota. You would think that we'd get down there more often, seeing that we live less than 2 hours away. But life gets busy for all of us. And before you know it, 3 months have gone by...or more, at times. Lucky for me, my birthday was fairly recent so I got to request my favorite cake: homemade chocolate with butter frosting...no box or canister for this yummy treat! It was nice of Terry(my step-mom/Grandma) to do that for me. And on top of that, a present, too! Can it get any better? The kids loved playing at the park, and also the lawn mower rides with Grandpa Glenn: meandering through their little town, stopping at the grain elevator, driving underneath a gigantic field sprayer(whoa!). Getting them to sleep proved difficult: where oh where is the OFF button??

I do enjoy my family--all of the many branches that hold us together. I haven't always enjoyed the pruning along the way. Some lessons are hard-learned. Some cuts go deep. Kind of like the rugged scars you see on a branch from a break, or pelted reminders of hail damage. But the most beautiful branches are the most weathered...and albeit, strong, as well. Some wounds take longer than others, to heal. The fact that there is pain in life is evidence that we are, indeed, alive.

Another community I have great memories with is my work family. I spent a good 8 years of my life with "the gang"--as our director referred to us. When I first got the job, my friend Rob would attest that I was "pretty green", and that was being nice, at best!(LOL) I had so much to learn early on. Not only about the job itself, but more importantly, about the people I interacted with, day in and day out. Yes, we grew trees and shrubs and everything else...but really, it was a people business.

When I think about all the blunders, shaking my head, laughing at all the stuff that went on, its amazing I lasted as long as I did! But you want to know the truth? What happened through all of that is we learned how to live with each other. Those who know me well are aware of my distaste for conflict. I would do whatever I could to avoid it; but when you are it, you can't hardly hide from yourself! We walked through those times, and the reward for doing so was moving past being just co-workers to now, friends.

And then came that day when I would find myself, sitting in my bosses' office...holding that little 6-week old baby boy. I was shaking, crying, and it was so hard to tell him that I was, indeed, leaving. Because while I had grown to love everyone there, this little guy had stolen my heart. It was the end of an era, for me, with new chapters to be written in the days and months ahead. It was hard to walk in the office, after leaving--seeing someone else on the other side of the counter. Took me a few years to get used to that image.

Four years later, its still amusing when I stop in for my own plant orders and see one of our customers, from the old days. The look and the question is usually the same: "Oh, hello! When are you coming back?" I find that humbling, and comforting, too. It will forever be a place where I will feel at home. Walking through that door ushers in a presence that I've never really left. A part of me still remains in that place. It's cute when my kids are in the van, asking for peanuts before we even get there. Can't even count how many times I used to refill that basket, when I was there.

I want to thank God, for being the truth behind the old cliche': Every thing happens for a reason. All good things come from Him. And what is painful, comes from life on earth. We are the branches, grafted in to a variety of family trees. It gives Romans 11 new meaning. Here's to family--the people who go out on a limb, for us.

Here I am

Alone in my heart,
yet surrounded by many.
The anguish of soul,
hidden within.
For so long, an orphan,
panicked for security.
A version of family remains,
yet altered and unaware.

The child-parent figure,
wearing a hat that doesn't fit.
Taking care of those whose
shoes are worn thin.
A lovely burden,
yet hard to shoulder.
What would become of us all?

In the palm of His calloused hands,
holding the balance of our lives.
Carrying the weight of our baggage,
establishing our dwellings.
Visiting the old places,
embracing our present address.
Reaching out for a resolution,
but only what is answers back.

How do we find ourselves in the place where we are?
Painfully, I watch my character develop strength.
From chapter to chapter,
Our stories unfold--one page at a time.
The Storyteller, never ceasing to read aloud...
And I am the ink--but the pen is not mine.

Northern Exposure

Nothing feels better than getting away from the daily grind. There is much work and planning to be had in going away for a weekend, but it is so worth it. I only wish it lasted longer than 2 short days(*sigh*). We just got home from being 'up north', as we Minnesotans like to call it. My husbands' family has a cabin on a lake, about 3-1/2 hours away. We look forward to the trip each fall, taking in the transformation of the leaves, each tree a little different from the next. It is truly beautiful. I think the air is therapeutic in that you feel so relaxed--and sleepy--while you are there.


The guys love to fish and get out on the water. For some reason, time ceases to exist when you step in to a boat. It's like sailing into another dimension or something. What? It's been six hours and you've already eaten supper? That used to be how it was, before our kids stepped in to the picture. Troy has reluctantly given up some of his 'casting time' so he can teach Adrian the rhythms of fishing. I think he's glad our son is also intrigued with the sport. I can see that the two of them will be good fishin' buddies someday. We've also added in other fun things that the kids like: gator rides through the '100 acre woods', flashlight walks at night, playing hide n seek--jumping out and scaring each other! Lots of fun.


The experience of being up north has changed for me as well, now having kids to care for. When I would arrive at the cabin, years ago, I remember finding my spot on the couch and passing out for several hours, catching up on my sleep. I used to work, full-time, at an office that supplied plant material to contractors. We worked long hours during the spring season. It was a fast-paced job, to say the least. I was tired--and the air up there put me into a temporary coma of sorts. This weekend, I felt like I was walking around in a daze. It's hard to get that nap, now that we have little people running around. And then you stay up late, sitting around the campfire, letting the flames mesmerize you. It's interesting to hear what people will end up talking about, when you sit around that fire long enough. 


I went shopping with the girls at the infamous L&M Supply. They have everything there--yes, even clothes, shoes, and toys for kids. We had fun, walking around the store for an hour or so. Eventually, I found myself near the check-out, looking at bags of old-fashioned candies. My ears took notice of a hilarious conversation of old men, standing next to me. It was like a scene out of a movie: four middle-age guys in fishing hats, away for the weekend, without their wives. And what are they doing for fun? They are loading up on candy, drinking their coffee, talking trash to each other. It was so funny. One of the guys was a diabetic and he was the one holding about 5 bags of candy, muttering that he really didn't need any of it. The other guys prodded him on, informing me that they were on his life insurance policy so they wanted him to eat the candy--lots of it! I couldn't help but laugh, as I felt my face turning color. I could totally see my dad, in this bunch. You know, walking around a store, talking to people like they were your next friend in life. If only we all lived like that. 


I brought a book along that I would eventually finish, while away. There were just a few chapters left, so I figured it would be easy to get through it. While I could hardly put the book down, it was like having 'heart surgery', in a manner of speaking. Being away from the routine of life, with all this beauty surrounding me, I felt like I was in a place where change could, and did, take place. Do you ever have those moments when you realize that what you've always thought was true, simply was not so? Or maybe there is some truth to your ideals, but then you realize how judgmental and wrong your attitude has been towards other people...people who are different, but loved by God, just as much as you or me is. It was painful. I felt helpless to do anything about it. I saw my reflection--and it wasn't pretty; unlike the mirror image of the trees against the smooth surface of the calm waters. No, mine was rather ugly. My heart was answering back to me, begging for removal of this part of me that was no longer needed.


While we were at the cabin, the guys(and some of the girls, maybe) pulled this huge log out of the bay. It had been there for years, so I had been told. Apparently, wood doesn't go bad when it's under water like that. It was valuable for something; maybe they would take it back to a relative who does wood-working for a living and see what he could do with it. This log, free from the bark that once clothed it, now looked more like a short telephone pole. It had been in the bay for as long as Troy's Aunt and Uncle had the cabin...which would be a few decades...maybe even longer. It just happened to be in the right position this time, to get it out of the way. I think it was discovered under the dock when they pulled it out. 


On the drive home, I continued to think about what was happening to me, on the inside. Troy was my captive audience, which is the way it is when he is at the wheel. No where to go, except home--so he was my sounding board. I don't think he actually minds much. So long as I keep on topic and get to the point. I was sharing my thoughts on what I had read, how it was affecting me, and what now. We talked about the people in our lives, what we admired about them, how some times we do things differently, and how we fit in, somewhere, in all of that. We enjoy our drive times. It is very productive in that we get in to each others' heads and can gain more perspective that way. We agreed that we need to drive more often. Not really having anywhere to go, but just the distraction of driving helps our conversation along. 


I think what happened to me, this weekend, is that "the log" has finally been removed. I'm sure there will be more, along the way, but this was a big one. It was in the right place where it could now be taken out and evaluated. Some of my struggles: difficulty giving and receiving love, feeling unworthy, self-absorption. All of this, wrapped up inside a barricade, across the center of my heart. Only He can take this away and make something beautiful, in return. I love that being up north helps me feel closer to God. Maybe I'm too distracted, at home, to realize how much I need to spend time with Him. He has pursued me, but I have not returned His affections. Not really, unless there is something I want. Isn't that often how a person prays? I realize this may sound very strange...and it is. My only explanation is that my awareness of how wretched I can be, inwardly, also makes me aware of a love that is beyond human understanding. And that love is the only thing that will rescue me. 


On a lighter note, we made lots of memories this weekend. Adrian told his preschool teacher, earlier this week, that he was going up north--that he was going to sleep in the camper, and eat lots of different foods--LOL. All of this is true! We had jalapeno poppers--wrapped in bacon, mushrooms--wrapped in bacon, Alaskan salmon, northern pike, shrimp. It was a feeding frenzy and it was good. Samantha got car-sick, on our way up there. She doesn't like bumpy roads. Needless to say, her grape juice made it to the surface! Her poor dolly, who seems to need a bath regularly, ended up smelling like soured grapes all weekend long. Oh well. Nothing that the smell of a campfire won't cover over. No one cares how you smell when you're up north. Years ago, before there was electricity and water in place, all of us went several days without a shower. On the last day, before going home, we would wash our hair over the deck with heated water from a portable hot pad. Those were the days. I do like it better with modern conveniences, but there is just something about being away from all of that--you notice nature and not how you look. However, after 3 days without showering, you really do notice nature! LOL


Thank you, to Troy's family--immediate and extended--for sharing your cabin and this time with us. We love you all and look forward to the next time we're together. 

Special Delivery

                                                                              
This morning, I slipped out the front door to enjoy my new patio and cup of coffee. The sun coming over the fields was so bright, with the promise of a beautiful day in store. I tried to read a little, but was distracted by a flutter overhead. I looked at the hydrangea tree, newly planted in the landscape. And there it was: a dragonfly, resting on a cluster of petals, as still as could be.

I was off the chair and back in a flash, with my camera in hand. It was still there, not moving an inch. That gorgeous little creature stayed in that spot for over an hour. I got some great shots, at many different angles. If you were to stop by my front door at that moment, you would think I was some nature freak, in her pajamas, with major 'bed head'! I would have been too engrossed to notice the obvious stares...hmmmm, maybe its a good thing my nearest neighbors are not right next door : )

The dragonfly is my favorite flying creature. I like butterflies, especially Monarchs, but the mysterious habit, and elusiveness, of dragonflies have always intrigued me. They fly by so fast and rarely do you get a chance to photograph one while it is still...well, I did earlier this summer, but it had drowned in the baby pool and so I had it 'set up' on different flowers to do pictures. Kind of weird, I know.

 A few years back, I stopped by the booth of a nature photographer, at a local event, who had the most amazing picture of a dragonfly. He had gotten up very early that day, knowing enough about them and where to find them. The photo he took showed drops of dew, kissing the lacy wings, with the sun shining through, just right. The colors were blues, greens, and purples. If there had been $80 in my pocket that day, I would've found a place on my wall for that one!

With each discovery in nature, I am amazed at how great our God is. I am taken aback when people believe that all of this creation had no plan or design. I imagine it would feel something like having designed a beautiful landscape(a-hem...like my front patio)and having people stop by, look at it, and determine that all the plants, paver bricks, and mulch fell into place on their own accord. That it was all by chance that the 'cool outdoor space' came to be and that it was meant for no one in particular. I would be crushed. I wonder if that is how God feels when we don't appreciate all that He has made for us. In the letter He wrote to us, we are told that not a sparrow falls to the ground without Him knowing about it. I suppose that every time my cat kills a mouse, He knows about that, too... I'm glad that my cats like to hunt!

As naive as this may sound, I know that dragonfly landed where it did so that I could enjoy it...on this day, and at that very moment. I've had lots of "visitors" since completing the patio: a squishy toad the size of my fist, slugs that never made it across the rough terrain of bricks, butterflies, cats who won't stop eating the ornamental grass, and ants that aren't supposed to get through the sand we used to seal up the patio...annoying little buggers! But this dragonfly--that was a special gift just for me. I take it as nothing less than that.

I believe that God wants to relate to us on a level we can understand. One of the ways He does this is through creation. His handiwork speaks a language all its own, communicating truth in simple ways that make sense for real life. The bible is chock full of examples on this. I'm not sure how flying insects communicate truth, but I do know this: God loves us. Even to the tiniest details of our likes and dislikes. It is confirmation to my soul of His existence, when I get to see a small desire of my heart, land right in front of me. When that canvas is printed and hanging on my wall, I will be reminded of God's faithful attempts to draw me in to an even closer relationship with Himself. Like a gift given by a dear friend, who knows me better than anyone else.