February ending 2018

While Valentine’s Day is what I think of in February, spring has been on the move.  There were record-breaking high temperatures and heavy rainfall that threatened flooding . We watched the news and watched the waters rise. We prayed for peace and prayed for neighbors who were severely affected. We renewed our trust in a God who controls wind and wave, heat and cold, rain and sunshine.

The birds started singing in the early mornings this month and my daffodils began to bloom today. I anticipate spring with joy. In the morning I open the window where I sit with coffee and Scripture, listening for the first chirp, and soon the sound of other birds echo in our little woods.

Rabbits are hoping in the yard again. Which means Maisie will want to chase them again.

The geese on the lake across our road are pairing up. There’s a lot of honking and posturing among the males. I spied a couple of blue birds flitting about the bird house in the back yard. It’s nesting time. I savour the sights and sounds of the coming season.

I heard the cranes flying overhead twice in February. It is always a surprise gift to be outdoors at just the right time. When I hear their call, I stop what I’m doing, and scan the sky for the flock overhead.

It’s one of those sounds that makes me smile and takes me back to a Sunday afternoon when the grandchildren were small and living in the house next door. The three of them were with Sweet William and me for a few hours that day, and it was warm enough to be outside. We heard an unfamiliar noise overhead and began to look for its source. On that day years ago, there were hundreds of crane flying so high we could barely see them. But we heard them. Flocks of them flew over and we watched and listened. It was one of those moments of discovery imprinted on my mind.

I am pursuing depth this year and a book by Cal Newport fell into my hands in February. I don’t always pick a word for a year but this time I chose “Deeper.” At times I’ve felt like I had mile-wide commitments with inch-deep results. I’ve lived busy for many years. Now I want to live deep in many areas of my life.

It was easy, then, for me to latch onto Newport’s book from the library called Deep Work. He offers an intriguing proposition that we are a distracted culture, multi-tasking, constantly online and connected via smart phones, attached to our social media accounts, and in many ways alway available to most everyone on our friend list.

I am evaluating how I spend my days, how often I check my laptop for posts and messages when it really is not time-sensitive. I’ve tried to make changes in the way I use technology in February so that technology does not control me. It should be a tool I use, not one that directs my day.

I also read a book of poetry, A Garden in Kentucky by Jane Gentry. Gentry’s poems were lovely and I enjoyed her way of writing about her home state and mine.

I’m not the biggest fan of poetry though I would like to be. I have often found it hard to understand. Perhaps I can blame it on my high school experience when we were forced to read an epic poem, Evangeline, which was long and made no sense to me at all.

My creative juices flowed freely this month. My cousin and I took an introductory weaving class at the library, making a simple loom from a piece of cardboard. I learned the basics, then took my project home to finish into something quite pleasing.


I visited the  Paint Spot for the very first time. Actually it was a Christmas gift from a friend who decided that giving me a shared experience was better than another scarf. And she was so right. I relaxed while I painted my coffee cup, and it was twice as nice with my friend.

Image may contain: coffee cup, drink and indoor

This month, I decided I feel better when I change into real clothes even on the days when I don’t have to go anywhere. One of the perks of being part-time retired is that I can stay in my pajamas all day if I want. And some days I have. But I feel better prepared for the day if I put on decent clothes, wash my face, add a little mascara, and comb the bed head out of my hair. I’m not sure if I am more productive or not. That remains to be seen.

I finally had time to get acquainted with the newest neighbor on our quiet lane. The couple moved in before Christmas and we briefly met, but cold weather and short days kept us all indoors. As the days warmed and lengthened in February, it was the right time for coffee and muffins. My neighbor who lives in the house next door joined us at the table, and the two young women found common ground as they chatted. It was lovely to behold.

Sweet William and I visited my friend at her farm in the next county. She has created a beautiful home, and we find the miles to get there worth the trip. She fixed us eggs from her own chickens, gave us carrots to feed the horses, and showed us her latest projects. We stayed so long that she brought out lunch meat for sandwiches. And we ate again.

I gathered with a group of beautiful women early in the month for Table Life, the first of four sessions, where we are learning to do life at the table with the awareness that Jesus wants to be there with us. It coordinates beautifully with my “Deeper” work of building relationships, of savoring the moments with dear friends and family, of investing in lives and eternity rather than in things that fade quickly.

Jesus left us an example of spending time with people over a meal, demonstrating to us that the table is important. I am finding that amazing things happen when I take time to sit awhile, pour another cup of coffee, eat a muffin or scrambled eggs, and enjoy the fellowship of one another. We are able to share our lives with one another and listen to what the heart is saying.

Love  happens at the table and Christ is in our midst.







It’s all about love

Valentine’s Day 2018 may be a memory, but February makes me think about love like November reminds me to be thankful. If it could only last longer than a month, I’d be a better person.

Sweet William and I celebrated Valentine’s Day a couple days before the event. We knew the 14th would be filled with appointments and obligations. We’ve been together long enough to know a number on the calendar is not as important as what is in our hearts.

Image result for steven curtis chapman all about love

On the morning of the 14th I woke with thoughts of love on my mind. I put Steven Curtis Chapman’s All About Love on the CD player and hummed familiar tunes as I prepared whole grain pancakes with bananas for our breakfast.


I sent messages to my precious ones who are miles away, the texts a meager substitute for the hugs I want to give them on Valentine’s Day.  But it was what I had to give. I received a quick loving response from our son that made me cry. His words were like sweet oil on my heart, soothing and tender.

In a minute or so “I Will Be Here” began to play, a song that means a lot to Sweet William and me, the musical message of commitment that weathers storms and holds fast, no matter what. And I cried some more.

As I stood at the back door looking out the window while tears fell freely, I thanked God for His love that makes our love possible. For love is from God. If we would see God, we should look for love where it flows freely from hearts who know love, who have been loved and have learned to give love in return.

I think how God’s love has covered a multitude of sins, the ones that would have drowned me and sucked the life from my lungs. Because of His love, grace has taught me to love and forgive others, those sins covered as well. I stagger at something so amazing and struggle to grasp its enormity.

It is easy for me to see God in the world that often denies His existence. I look for love where it is being acted out. It isn’t just the romantic kind that made my stomach flutter at a glimpse of my special someone, though that love has a place.

Love shines brightly when it is hard to walk out, when it is an act of will that requires all we have to give. I see it in the mother who prays and belives for a prodigal to return. In the father who takes care of and provides for his family by working a job he dislikes. In the adult child who gives patient and tender care to an aging and sometimes forgetful parent. In the spouse who lives the promise of for better or worse. In the couple who leave all that is familiar to show Jesus to the world. In the family who opens their home to a troubled teen.

As I ponder the kind of love that comes from the heart of a loving God, the last song of All About Love CD plays and Chapman sings:

“A song of living sacrifice
For every moment that I live and breathe,

This is a moment made for worshipping.

Love is from God. He gives it to us lavishly through Jesus Christ, holding nothing back, like a rushing river flowing out of its banks. As I stand in His presence and refresh myself with a deep drink of it, I know I am loved.  It’s only through Him I am able to love in return.

This love, this day is a moment made for worshipping.



February begins

The origin of the word February is surprising to me. I’ve always simply thought of it as the month of love.

With the advent of Valentines Day, merchants discovered another way to entice us to spend money, reds and pinks showing up in stores early last month. Cards to honor the day of hearts and flowers flood the isles, and TV commercials encourage us to make diamonds the proof of undying affection.

But what if . . .  what if we really did practice a little more love during February? Not the gushy, mushy vaporous emotions or the once-a-year expensive gifts that last but a little while before they are forgotten and we move on to other “more important” endeavors.

What if we tried scattering a little more kindness this month, without it turning into a spending spree or a guilt trip? What if we gave out of the abundance of our hearts, out of the grace we have been given?

We take on the character of God when we become givers. God gave. God gives. God will give eternally.

“What if the truth is every tremor of kindness here erupts in a miracle elsewhere in the world?” — Ann Voskamp,  The Broken Way

Chapter 5 of Ann’s new book, a gift from a friend, ignites something this morning as I read about her and her children leaving unexpected gifts all over the city, creating smiles and joy in their wake.

One of the dots on my Bucket List is “Always be kind.” I wish that just writing that down and marking it a priority made it always be true in my every day. It isn’t. I need a reminder. Often.

Scatter Kindness 8x10 Canvas Quote[purchase the canvas at this Etsy shop]

So I am challenging myself to Scatter Kindness in February, to find unusual and unexpected ways of giving to others out of my own abundance. Thoughts, ideas already drift in my head. I would gladly bring a few more smiles to the faces I encounter regularly and those who just happen along my pathway.

This month, February, I will make it my goal to Scatter Kindness, to Sweet William first for his is the face I see most often and the one I can so easily take for granted. I will endeavor to Scatter Kindness to those I know and to those I don’t, to the ones in my circle of  influence and to those I may pass only once in this life.

It will be challenging because I am too often self-centered. Perhaps the focus on others will alleviate my struggle for a while. At least for the next 28 days.

And like the dandelion fluff I’ve scattered with my breath on scores of summer days, perhaps one seed will take root in another heart. Perhaps Scattering Kindness will grow and flourish in someone else.

This morning’s radiance splashes pinks and oranges in the sky from my eastern window. The Spirit whispers, “I love you. This is for you.”

The world is chaotic and dysfunctional. I cannot fix it or make people happy. But I can show them they are loved by simple, kind deeds. And “no matter what anyone’s saying, everyone is just asking if they can be loved.”*

February could turn into a bountiful opportunity to show God’s love through small acts of kindness. There is the chance it could change me and my little corner of the world.



* Quote from The Broken Way by Ann Voskamp


February waning

The end of the month is close at hand.  Except this year we get an extra day.

It sounds good in theory, like being handed 24 more hours to enjoy.  But I expect most of us already have plans laid out for February 29, and it will be just another day in our lives.

But what if . . . what if you were given 24 more hours to spend wildly in some unplanned way, uncommitted, unstructured to the minute?  Not the way we usually do life.

What would you do with that time?  What would I?

Perhaps get one of those 2016 projects completed, or at least started.  Maybe organize the pantry or the garage or the walk-in closet.  Maybe veg out on a movie marathon day, i.e. Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, or any number of serial flicks.  Maybe shop ’til you drop or prepare your taxes.

Would we work or play?

What if . . . we spent a day in retreat?  What if . . . we spent a day in silence?  What if . . . we looked deep inside ourselves and reflected our heart against the backdrop of Scripture?

I tried a day of retreat years ago.  Such a day is hard to come by because there are people around who need me.  Or so I think.

Maybe I could take half a day or a quarter of a day, or even a few hours spent intentionally in God’s Word, in prayer and meditation, journaling my swirling thoughts and somehow make some sense of what troubles me.

Because you see, there are things that trouble me.  I don’t share them freely.  They are in the deepest parts of my soul, the secret place of my heart.

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.’ “

My secret thoughts and worries are safest when brought to the secret place of the Most High God.  It is an ascended place of rest, above the noises and voices of the world, out of reach of what troubles me.

In the secret place of God I find refuge and peace.  My deepest secrets are safe with Him.  And He knows what I need before I even ask.

Perhaps it is impossible at this late date to schedule the last day of February or even hours of uninterrupted quiet time, away from the fray of this world.

But I could get up an hour earlier on the 29th.  I could steal away during the lunch break.  I could take a leisurely walk down my lane.  I could find the time if I really want to.

And I want to.  How about you?

winter 11photo by Elena Walls

February’s Sunday Grace

A new beginning.  Again.  Each day, each month, each year.

God gives second chances again and again and again.

Oh God of the second chance, it’s me . . . again.


His love is more sure than the sun coming up each morning and going down in the evening.

His love is more certain than the changing seasons.

His love is more real than my Sweet William’s smile.

His love is more lasting than this world and all it’s beauty.

His love.

There is nothing else like it.

I will soak in it today and throughout the month of love.

And when February is over, His love will go on . . .


Sunday grace, friends.

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Leaving February


I enjoyed the month of February with all its talk and posts about love. It gave me a chance remember important people in my life.

Then there was the sermon series, “Navigating the Storms of Life,” at Little Flock that got my attention and resonated with truth each Sunday. I found myself heading into a storm on February 15 when my Sweet William was suddenly thrust into open-heart surgery.

Now at the end of the month, I’m beginning to see some of the clouds disperse and a patch of blue sky peeking through. I guess that means I’m coming out of a storm. At least for now.

I was having a Facebook conversation last evening. You know the kind I mean. I type out my message, send it, then wait for a reply. It is a slow way to talk.

My FB friend is in the middle of a tornado-like storm, the warning sirens at full blast. It won’t be over for a while. All I can do is stay close, pray for her, and offer encouragement when I can.

I told her I have found that God speaks to me more clearly during the darkest of days, the hard roads, the tear-streaked seasons of my life. He seems nearer at those times, probably because I seek Him more often, praying without ceasing just to make it through the next hour. Perhaps my ears are more prone to listening to His words when I am broken and bruised.

Honestly, when I look back to those stormy seasons, I realize my faith grew. When I had nothing but God, I found that He was more than enough.

It helps me look with hopeful expectation toward the future. I can enjoy the clear-sky days. But I can also face the storm clouds that gather without fear. I have tested and found Him to be faithful, near and dear in the valley of the shadow as well as on top of the sun-shiny mountains.

So I bid February farewell. I will not pass this way again. But I will look back and see God’s hand written all over it.


To my valentine


I remember catching you look at me when you thought I wasn’t looking.  But I was.

I remember when you asked me out, hesitant that I might say no.  I didn’t.

I remember when you first reached for my hand and how it felt encircled in yours.

I remember the first tender kiss by the gate.

I remember falling in love with you and never quite recovering from it.

I remember waiting for your call and hoping it would last awhile. 

I remember walking down the isle and having eyes only for you.

I remember the newlywed days that were replaced with the young parent days that were replaced with real life days.

I remember the struggles, the tears, the pain, the laughter, the joy.

I remember when it all began to fall apart, and we were afraid.

I remember how God gave us a second chance when no one else did.

I remember how our love bloomed again and became a bouquet I never thought possible.

Now it is today.  And I love you more than I did when I first remembered.