Yogiism #?

Julia, my 6th child, is fond of playing tennis. She happily joins Dad every Friday morning at the SLU courts to play with the "ol' guys group". Rick happened upon them years ago, discovering that they meet 2-3 times weekly. When we bought a family pass to use the local university facility, he decided to join them on Fridays and Julia tags along (they are actually pretty impressed with her playing - she is aggressive and quick!)

Julia's new partner is Ruth, a 75 year old woman with some pretty savvy tennis tricks up her sleeves. Julia has enjoyed playing with her a great deal. Wondering where such good skills came from, Julia asked her if she had taken lessons. She then unraveled her childhood story as a daughter of missionaries in British colonial India. She had been sent to boarding school up in the mountainous region where they played tennis everyday and hiked every Saturday. Pretty romantic saga, eh? Julia was mesmerized as her thoughts flew to stories such as "A Little Princess" and such.

My comment right about then? "It's great to hear older folks' stories, isn't it? Some of them have lived a long time!"

These Days

• Political schemes occupy my mind with two weeks left until the special election here in the 23rd Congressional district. I'm working with my son to get the word out - the Republican candidate is decidedly liberal and a true conservative needs to be forewarned. Do not simply vote Republican! Don't do it! Dede Scozzafava is not what she may appear (not because she has wrongly implied otherwise - the fault is in assumption by many who think that all Republicans are equal.) Vote Doug Hoffman if you want true conservatism!
  

• Apples galore fill my kitchen, but the yard work demands attention while the sun yet shines. Add to that a husband who needs winter clothes located and hung, and summer wardrobes tucked away for another season. Too much to do to get to the apples quite yet. They will wait a bit longer -- they will have to!

• Family by the numbers are planning to join us for Thanksgiving! I am excited beyond measure at the thought - Rick's two sisters and a brother with their families in tow will round out our table this year. Cousins playing games, grown men setting up tournaments of X-box tennis, ladies chatting and watching babes and discussing movies, and, of course, plenty of turkey with all the trimmings. These folks love good food and fun!

• My dear friend up the street is living in perpetual construction these days with heavy equipment hauling dirt, pushing down buildings, tearing up concrete. Well, not to be outdone, today my neighbor began a mini-construction project right here at 1942. Upon noticing the many cars parked out front morning, noon, and night week after week, month after month, and now, year after year, he volunteered his backhoe and ordered stone which will arrive tomorrow. Why? He was just plain tired of seeing cars stuck in mud as the yard turned from sod to mucky mire every spring and fall. He is so kind and very supportive of our efforts to reach out to young people here in the North Country! Thanks, Bruce!

• Carina and I spent time this morning reviewing childrens' musicals for a Christmas Junior Church production. Yup, it's that time of year... already!

• Our lunchtime often includes Mom reading aloud from a novel. We are reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. This story is a great follow up to our last reading, Maggie - A Girl of the Street. Both books are set in turn-or-the-century NYC following tenement families in immigrant neighborhoods. Very fascinating. We may just have to follow this up with another trip to the Tenement Museum! Love that place!

• Immediately following church yesterday I piled into our 7 passenger minivan with eight young ladies and we heading to Lake Placid for an afternoon of shopping. We bought sweaters by the carload, purchased one designer dress, giggled and told stories, critiqued worship albums (is that even allowed?), enjoyed Starbucks, ate burgers at a lakeside bar and grill (is that even allowed?), walked briskly to avoid the chilly temps nipping our noses, missed a turn so went through Malone, and had SO MUCH FUN! Thanks, girls!
  

This Magical Place

Two times a year (many more than that, undoubtedly, but two definite times for sure) my world is filled with magic.

Canadian geese migrating. Magical. Right here, in my world.

Hauntingly beautiful sounds fill the air - an eerie crescendo of distinctive calls and cries. No matter what I am doing, I still, to this day, run to the window with the widest view, announcing with exuberant wonder to all in the house that the geese are in flight! "The geese! Come and see the geese!"

I take my post and wait anxiously, expectantly. I long to see the magic! In only a moment or two I partake of this glory; mysterious lines and patterns of birds in flight begin crossing the sky, filling my view with wonder and beauty.

I gasp in wonder, every time left breathless; yes, it takes my breath away. The sounds swell, the sky fills more and more. How can this be? What is this magic? Why this order, this calm assurance of duty and direction? Who calls them, leads them, guides them?

They seem to just know. With quiet confidence, they know. They are not frantic. They are not slack. They move onward, patiently, surely. Year after year, spring after fall after spring after fall.

God's people know His voice. When we hear, when we listen, we can move with a calm assurance void of frenzy and full of purpose. Winging steadily along the course, knowing His hand is upon us for blessing, we accomplish wondrous things, in His time.

Canadian geese produce magic. I look on with joyous wonder.

And the world looks on with wonder and amazement at the Church of the Living God when His people hear His voice and come.

A Sojourner Not Welcomed, But Now a Part

An unexpected word, thought, reminder
touches the wounded place,
and the eyes pool, suddenly.
Pain overflows, trickling down.

Grief lingers long,
an uninvited guest,
a resident in my soul,
burdening my heart with undiminished heaviness.

Perhaps it will fade.
Perhaps it will go away.
Perhaps it will always remain,
less called upon as the days unfold,
but present all the same.

Oh, How He Loves You and Me

My heart needs searching. He will do so, faithfully, gently. He will discover the sin stain, the weakness. He will help me.

Oh, how He loves you and me.