Making Summertime Memories

My husband and I have remarked so very often that we are “summer people”. We often wonder why we have settled in an area that has a winter climate eight months a year, when we seem to love summer so much? I guess that is one reason we try to squeeze every bit of summertime living into those few months, making the most of being outdoors and soaking up all the sunshine and warmth we can before winter is once again upon us.

Our family has grown by one precious granddaughter in July. Our sixth grandbaby. Watching my baby girl with her baby girl fills my heart with joy. The new parents are a team, navigating the first couple of weeks of parenting learning as they go. They will learn as I have that time goes by so swiftly. One minute, I am rocking my child in my arms, the next moment I am rocking her child in my arms! It’s hard to fathom.

It’s like summer. I’m soaking up all that time spent with my children and grandchildren, making memories now, because this season in time is so short.

Wise Solomon wrote these words of wisdom and I ponder them today:

A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

But in the end, does it really make a difference what anyone does? I’ve had a good look at what God has given us to do—busywork, mostly. True, God made everything beautiful in itself and in its time—but he’s left us in the dark, so we can never know what God is up to, whether he’s coming or going. I’ve decided that there’s nothing better to do than go ahead and have a good time and get the most we can out of life. That’s it—eat, drink, and make the most of your job. It’s God’s gift.

I’ve also concluded that whatever God does, that’s the way it’s going to be, always. No addition, no subtraction. God’s done it and that’s it. That’s so we’ll quit asking questions and simply worship in holy fear.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-14 (The Message)

Thank-You, Lord for this choice season!

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Dragonfly Dance

Blue fairies of the garden, 
I watched their dance
As they pirouetted around the lavender.

The gossamer wings delicately folded one moment
Perfectly still, catching their breath,
Only to spin and twirl in harmony with the breeze.

Was it rehearsed? I wondered.
A courtship of sorts,
With the dancers hearing a melody I was not attuned to.

It seemed joyful, and sensual, and frantic.
A pas de deux that was uniquely choreographed
But captivatingly improvised as well.

I was lost in their revelry,
Transfixed by their gambol
For a few glorious moments in time.

Their ballet left me mesmerized.
I wanted to cheer, “Encore!”
When they suddenly fled the stage.

Instead, kneeling on the brick, with my spade in hand,
I whispered a thoughtful, “Bravo!”
As I returned to my weeding.

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Spring has Sprung!

I worked all day on my garden yesterday. Unlike other provinces that have been basking in warm weather and greenery aplenty, here in Alberta, we still have frost warnings! Our growing season is so short I know there’s always a risk in planting too soon. I’ve jumped the gun a few times desperate to see flowers after a long, cold winter, and regretted it when my efforts were ruined by a killing frost in mid June. I’m praying that won’t happen this time.

This is my most favourite time of year. Early morning sunrises, warm rain showers, the occasional afternoon thunderstorms, and brilliant red sunsets. Sitting on our deck, with our Rocky Mountain view before us, my husband and I drink in the scenery and season, and count our blessings. It is pure contentment.

It is easy to feel contentment when all is well in our little corner of the universe. No calamities, no real hardships burden us at present. After three years of health issues, Covid, and isolation, it is like merging from a chrysalis into a whole new world. We don’t want to take it for granted, but cherish these idyllic times when they come because we also know “winter is coming” and life can change in an instant.

We have grieved this year the passing of loved ones and friends, and have prayed and continue to pray for many who are facing challenging times. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. If I’m not careful I can fixate on all the negativity and become cynical and hard-hearted. It’s important to stop and praise God for the mountain top experiences too.

So today, I invite you to join me in watching the sunrise. Take a few minutes to listen to birdsong around you. Be captivated by something joy-inspiring. Open God’s Word, and let His presence fill you with peace.

Psalm 104

Praise the Lord, my soul. Lord my God, you are very great;
you are clothed with splendor and majesty. The Lord wraps himself in light as with a garment;
he stretches out the heavens like a tent
and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.
He makes the clouds his chariot
and rides on the wings of the wind.
He makes winds his messengers,
flames of fire his servants. He set the earth on its foundations;
it can never be moved.
You covered it with the watery depths as with a garment;
the waters stood above the mountains.
But at your rebuke the waters fled,
at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;
they flowed over the mountains,
they went down into the valleys,
to the place you assigned for them.
You set a boundary they cannot cross;
never again will they cover the earth. He makes springs pour water into the ravines;
it flows between the mountains.
They give water to all the beasts of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.
He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to cultivate—
bringing forth food from the earth:
wine that gladdens human hearts,
oil to make their faces shine,
and bread that sustains their hearts.
The trees of the Lord are well watered,
the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.
There the birds make their nests;
the stork has its home in the junipers.
The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
the crags are a refuge for the hyrax. He made the moon to mark the seasons,
and the sun knows when to go down.
You bring darkness, it becomes night,
and all the beasts of the forest prowl.
The lions roar for their prey
and seek their food from God.
The sun rises, and they steal away;
they return and lie down in their dens.
Then people go out to their work,
to their labor until evening. How many are your works, Lord!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.
There is the sea, vast and spacious,
teeming with creatures beyond number—
living things both large and small.
There the ships go to and fro,
and Leviathan, which you formed to frolic there. All creatures look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
they are satisfied with good things.
When you hide your face,
they are terrified;
when you take away their breath,
they die and return to the dust.
When you send your Spirit,
they are created,
and you renew the face of the ground. May the glory of the Lord endure forever;
may the Lord rejoice in his works—
he who looks at the earth, and it trembles,
who touches the mountains, and they smoke. I will sing to the Lord all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
May my meditation be pleasing to him,
as I rejoice in the Lord.
But may sinners vanish from the earth
and the wicked be no more. Praise the Lord, my soul. Praise the Lord.

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