Reflections by a Fountain

My dear husband's gift of a western style prairie garden fountain,when he discovered I was wishing for a fountain, has been a source of relaxation and reflection for me--the eastern girl to whom the sound of gurgling water means a lot.

 I reflected on how Sunday, July 27th, was my 36th spiritual birthday--the day I gave my heart to God.

 A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then--some of it turbulent, muddy, and covered with pollen...

 and some of it not so muddy.

Thirty-six years and many weary days later, I am heading out for a walk to my quiet place in the prairie,

when my little daughter begs to go with me.

 At first I say no. I want to be alone. 

But then, I agree that if she is quiet, she may bike with me.

I was glad I let her. How happy she was--balancing herself eagerly on her little bike, having just learned to ride.

 "I need to get off here," she admitted at one steep little spot. She was little, and her bike was little, and the pedals just wouldn't go on that steep spot.

 "Little by little," she talked to herself cheerfully, "I can get up there!"

 And so, like the five-year-old on the prairie path, we made our way through life--

sometimes pedaling eagerly, and sometimes unable to pedal at all.

 Those places where there was just dry grass--and piles of dirt--and thorns.

 Sometimes it seems like all life consists of is washing dishes, cleaning off the counters, and wiping up watery spills, only to turn around and have to clear the mountains from the dish drainers and put away things and set the table and cook meals all over again--three times a day for nine people.

 And scrub dirty collars and filthy socks, and wash the laundry, and hang the laundry...

 and take down the laundry and sort the laundry and put away the laundry,

and iron the laundry...

 and mend the laundry...and it's been a long time since the mending desk has looked quite this neat.

 And then there is the vacuuming, and the piles of accumulation that needs to be taken downstairs,

 and the gardens to tend and water and weed and cover with screens...

 And we wonder--is my life really bearing fruit?

 Hubby comes home and finds me in the middle of a project, and then I crash for a bit and wonder if there could be any long-term goals for me as a person--

life just seems so one-day-at-a-time to provide for seven youngsters and try to keep going when I have

so little energy and none to spare.

And I feel kind of stuck--like this yellow squash--squashed up against the other one--grown stuck together like that.

And I remember that I can choose.

I can choose to be stuck and squashed, or I can choose to grow thriving together--

my hubby and me and our seven precious little ones that were given as unexpected gifts--

not the bother and burden that the world would like us to believe,

but as bundles of potential and God-glorifying little people.

So when their clothes pile up on the catch-all wall, 

 and all you can see is right in front of your eyes, 

and all you can feel is how tired you are,

you pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and go out to the kitchen to dinner,

and discover that those chattering children are coming up with a goal for this year's hay ride at our little ranch on the prairie--a greased pig chase!

And that greased pig chase chases all the blues away as everyone from Pa on down is roaring at the very thought of Peter, James and John, all greased and striped and squealing, running around with umpteen children behind in the pasture!

So we work together at dishes, laundry, ironing, vacuuming, cleaning up vehicles, parking a motor home on blocks to work on the transmission, and also doing those little touches that make a quiet corner...

 and a little spot of beauty in the hectic life.