There seem to be so many things to pray for, lately. Our pre-school teacher has a son who disappeared in Frankfurt, Germany, just before Thanksgiving. My Bible Study leader is in the process of painful decisions involving an elderly family member. A dear friend is struggling with unexplained migraine headaches. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with all of it. But, I do.
…whether you’re ready or not.
I only ask to be free. Butterflies are free. – Charles Dickens
It’s that time of year, again, and I am thankful for so many things. As hard as it is, I am thankful for this uphill battle. This life. The path it has taken has opened my eyes to so many things and so many opportunities to grow emotionally and spiritually. It has allowed me to see things in new light, sometimes painfully bright, but full of truths I never would have discovered had I not followed this course. For these things, I give thanks.
We’re back to taking walks many afternoons. The heat of the summer still hasn’t taken its final bow, but some days we feel the cooler air is coming. It’s starting to bring me back to life…a little. I occasionally feel like I can breathe again. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. By this time of year the breathing part should already have reverted to second nature, but summer is clinging. I’m trying very hard to be patient. Inhale. Exhale.
As ominous as a six foot electric fence topped with barbed-wire. Only slightly prettier.
This isn’t the greatest shot in the world, it’s just a shot that says to me: Hang in there. Because sometimes the world turns me upside-down, and inside-out, and I feel like I’m barely hanging on. So, a little reminder is a nice thing.
Everywhere we walk, I feel like I’m on a constant vigil to protect Kat from the spines and barbs and utter wickedness of the cacti. Four year olds are curious and not always steady on their feet, which leaves me sounding like a broken record. “Don’t touch it.” “Be careful.” “That’s gonna hurt.” It makes me feel kind of bad for her. You see, I spent all of my childhood and most of my adult life being able to reach out and touch flowers and grasses and trees. I’m tactile that way – wanting to know how everything feels. It’s one of those things I’ve never been able to resist; the soft silk of a rose petal or a downy leaf of Lamb’s Ear. The desert is simply full of jagged edges and sharp corners, which doesn’t exactly feed my tactile urges…or my desire for a soft place to land.
They’re not Macintosh or Delicious, or Jonathon or Honey Crisp. They don’t dangle precariously from branches, willing to fall at the slightest provocation. You can’t stand in a sunny orchard, on a crisp autumn day, and eat to your heart’s content. You can, however, get yourself a thick pair of gloves and some tongs and a bucket, some boiling water, vegetable scrubber, mason jars, and a paring knife, a little lemon juice, powdered pectin, and some sugar. Once you’ve done all that, you can mash, blend, strain, allow to settle, separate juice from the sediment, add to mason jars, seal with paraffin, allow to set, cool, refrigerate, etc., etc.
Not quite the same thing as standing in a sunny orchard, on a crisp autumn day, eating to your heart’s content. But, it will have to do.
Everywhere else, the seasons are changing. I hear stories from my midwestern friends and they speak of cool winds, rainy days, apple harvesting, pumpkin patches, and hayrides. They talk about trees ablaze in color and the desire to hunker down; the signs are there about what’s to come and some of them are fearful. But here? Here, it’s 100 degrees and the only thing I fear at the moment is this “summer” will never end. In honor of that, here’s an archive from my Michigan Summer and my mom’s perennial garden.
