Sunny Crocus, Humble Violet

When we arrived at Lakota Chapel this morning, bits of April sunshine were as busy beaming up at us from the ground as down at us from the sky!

The golden crocuses were blooming despite the frost! 

We stood in the warm sunshine and cool air waiting for someone to arrive with a church key, because the pastor had arrived before anyone else, but he had forgotten the key! 

It was no problem to wait, however, because we were enjoying the robins at the house next door and the crocuses. 

I never can quite understand how robins, after migrating hundreds or thousands of miles, can still be so fat!

"There's how!" we discovered, as the robin pulled a fat worm from the ground. 

"Maybe I need to start eating worms to fatten up!" I mused. 

What a good job God does of providing for His creatures we actually heard during the message Jonathan shared this morning titled, "Consider the Birds." 

 It's intriguing to think that Jesus, in His most famous Sermon on the Mount, told us to consider the birds and learn lessons from them--of trust and contentment and not worrying about tomorrow--which is hard to do when one has bills piling up, or vehicles needing repair, or animals to take to the vet, or a disease like cancer.

 

Panic hit me shortly after church service this afternoon. "What if...?" And I had to remind myself not to fear, but to trust God. 

He takes care of sparrows, robins, and even wild turkeys such as the ones Jonathan and I saw this afternoon as we took a walk down through our property to wee the new calf and its mother at the neighbor's field. 

"Don't add tomorrow's anxiety to your troubles today," Jesus said.

That creates an oversize load.

 Each day has its own measure of sorrow without adding tomorrow's besides. 

Jesus didn't deny or discount that each day would have troubles. 

It was heartbreaking to walk down by the river today and see once again the charred mess that the prairie fire last August left of this once green and overgrown area by the river. It burned and twisted tree bark to a charred crisp, and left ash everywhere--except the huge patch of awful sand burs on the sand bank of the river. 

That, of course, was left unscathed--so like bigger questions in life that leave you wondering why?

Still, Jonathan and I took off our shoes and socks and padded through the sand bar looking for a dry spot to sit by the river for a while in the sunshine. Jonathan went first, and I followed, carefully placing each footstep in his, because I figured if he had stepped there without feeling a prickly burr, then it would be safe for my feet, too. And that's how we walked by the river till Jonathan found a spot to recline in the sand and let me sit on his lap, watching the foam build up at a fallen tree in the river and listening to the splashing and gurgling of the water. 

We don't have dogwood blossoms to brag about like pictures a brother sent from Missouri,

nor lilacs already blooming, 

nor apple blossoms. 

But we don't have tornadoes, floods, and buckets of non-stop rain, either.

We sat near the sand burrs by a muddy river in South Dakota in the middle of a burn scar and were grateful for the sunshine, the sound of running water, and each other. 

 

No matter what circumstance we find ourselves in, there is Love to be thankful for--first of all, God's, and then the love of family and friends. For those who don't have that, there is the family of God, who, as I do often, pray simple prayers for a big God to remember and help and give grace to every child of His, especially those who are suffering the most or who most need encouragement. We are small and frail, like the humble violets, compared to the bigness of all that is wrong and evil, but we have a God Who is more than big. He is mighty and awesome and powerful and He cares about each of us today. 

Here is a poem my mom sent last week. 

 

  THE VIOLET

 

Down in a green and shady bed

A modest violet grew,

Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,

As if to hide from view.

 

And yet it was a lovely flower,

Its colours bright and fair;

It might have graced a rosy bower,

Instead of hiding there.

 

  Yet there it was content to bloom,

In modest tints arrayed;

And there diffused its sweet perfume,

Within the silent shade.

 

Then let me to the valley go,

This pretty flower to see;

That I may also learn to grow

In sweet humility.

 

     by Jane Taylor

And a couple links to articles I enjoyed by a favorite blogger. 

https://christyfitzwater.com/when-the-perfectionist-tries-to-know-god/

 

https://christyfitzwater.com/encouragement-falling-apart-bodies/

Meadowlarks and New Calves

The last two Sundays were as different as night and day. Last Sunday there was so much snow and mud that both churches we attend cancelled services. 

Jonathan and the children had managed to get home from Pierre on Saturday,  despite terrible roads, bringing me a pot of tiny narcissi to place in the window! They parked our van at our neighbor's place, since it was so weighed down with building material that, in Danny's words, it would have shot "like a rocket" down our steep and slippery hill of a drive. 

  On Sunday about noon, coming home from the church up the road where we attend when Lakota Chapel cancels, we arrived at the gate to discover a whole flock of meadowlarks all over our snowy, muddy driveway!  

Perhaps a couple dozen at least. We listened to them serenade us, watched them flutter here and there with their bright yellow Sunday ties! 

 It was just so amazing. 

That was in the middle of weeks of Danny spending each morning helping a rancher friend find and tag new calves just like this one which we saw from our kitchen window this Sunday over in our neighboring rancher's field.  

Danny and Jonathan are also doing some remodel work for the same rancher, traveling back and forth on about ten miles of muddy road! This is what their vehicles look like when they are done!

The weather seems to waver here between winter and spring, but ticks are already showing up,

a pair of swans had returned and were swimming on a little lake on our way to Sioux Falls the week before, 

 and Jonathan's seasonal allergies are driving him crazy all over again.

 

A day or two before the snow storm, there was a very bad grass fire across the border in Nebraska at the Nebraska National Wildlife Refuge. Danny was gone for hours helping to fight that.  Runs in my mind about 10,000 acres burned.

Joy for a Difficult Morning

This was one of those mornings when--let's just say I wasn't exactly experiencing joy when I came out to the kitchen wrapped in my robe. I had wakened at 2:00 in the morning and hadn't been able to sleep since. I'd gotten some praying in, between bouts of unsuccessfully trying to sleep, so it hadn't been totally wasted time. But now my eyes felt droopy and I felt draggy. 

I just wasn't having a particularly good morning as I started to make a drink and clear the dish drainer and pack lunch for Danny who had to leave earlier than usual. He's working for a rancher for a few weeks during calving season. Even the house was disconsolately dripping after a big snow and then rain last night.

But what was that Bible reader saying who just read from Philippians chapter 3? 

"In all these things, brothers, may God give you joy."

Jonathan had just turned on the audio Bible chapter for the day, and I was as startled as he was when he went out to his truck one morning and discovered a happy hen perched in the side compartment of his truck topper. 

Just like a happy hen clucking at me, the verse about God's heart desiring joy for me spoke to me clearly. In the middle of baldness, insomnia, chilliness as Jonathan was having a hard time getting the fire going, and nothing sunny today--the Scripture prayer was that God would give me joy!

The words felt like warm sunshine on the shawl on the back of my rocking chair when I go sit down after my work guys leave, when I pick up that shawl and wrap its warmth around my shoulders and thank God. 

It felt like the message I read on a license plate a few days ago as I was stopped at a light in town. 

"God be with you."

There it was, just another token of God's mercies shining through--at an unlikely spot, an ordinary stop light.

This morning as I checked my phone, I saw that an email had come in from Students for Life Action. 

"I know it's late but I just can't seem to fall asleep. There's been so much happening...the fight to DEFUND PLANNED PARENTHOOD is raging in Congress right now, our SCOTUS squad will be on the front steps of the Supreme Court in TWO days, and we have state battles heating up...

"So here I am, writing...at almost 2:00 a.m., Anna."

My eyes opened wide. 

2:00 a.m. 

That is when I woke up last night. 

I couldn't sleep either. 

So I had prayed, over and over.

Prayed for many people, many issues, and for the pro--lifers gathering today and tomorrow at the Supreme Court, risking their safety because I read that Planned Parenthood is bussing to D.C. witches, warlocks, and satan ists to use their black methods to pervert justice and have their way in our courts and country as Liberty Counsel provides briefs to the Supreme Court tomorrow, Wednesday, in the case of Medina v. Planned Parenthood South Atlantic.

Did God wake me so I could pray?

I hadn't felt like much of a prayer warrior, huddled under the covers trying to sleep but not able. 

So as not to disturb Jonathan, my hands prayed instead of my lips. 

And sometimes, prayers were without words, just hands beseeching the God of heaven to show Who was more powerful, to protect and watch over His people. 

I've seldom had a morning of sleeplessness and prayer like that.

But I was not alone.

Had God wakened a poor weak person like me to help hold needs before His throne, to stand in the gap even in just such a small way?

And then--as I headed to the kitchen first thing in the morning, what did God give me but His Word in a different version. It didn't say "Rejoice in the Lord alway," as the KJV says, and which hits me like something I must do, or conjure up, or strive for, or struggle for. Not that this is how I should feel about that version of the verse, for surely God gives power to do what He commands, but just between you and me, the version that I heard this morning felt like just for me. 
"In all these things, may God give you joy!" 

The comfort that came to my heart was indescribable. I felt God's heart in those words. I didn't have to work up joy. I just felt God's heart and knew His joy was there for me--in the middle of sleepless hours, dreary news, and a drippy morning. 

Just like that flock of meadowlarks surprised us Sunday afternoon coming home from church, flocking all over our driveway, that verse surprised and blessed me. 

In the middle of the dreariness of a chilly and cloudy morning, with deep, dark clouds gathered over our nation and its capital, I forgot about the hours of not being able to sleep and reveled in God's Word--and His joy!

Baby Dedication--Let the Little Ones Come to Me

Sunday in Missouri, my sister-in-law Anita sent photos of the service in which Elon's and Anita's son Jed and wife Rosalie were having their five little ones dedicated to the Lord.

This was one of the sweetest scenes I've seen in a long time. It included my mother sitting close to the front.

I had to zoom in on this photo.

Young Levi being dedicated and prayed for by my brother. I noted how the two oldest of the five children always had their eyes closed during the prayer, (something that is often lacking in people of every age nowadays) and being very respectful and involved.

When Tanner, the little boy who had been through a year of fighting a brain tumor, was dedicated and prayed for, his big brother and sister looked as if they were as earnest as the adults.

Once again, I was deeply touched by the sincere involvement of Kari and Levi as their little brother was prayed for and held up to the heavenly Father. 
"Let the little children come to Me," said the very Son of God, and Sunday morning, five children were "let" to come.

They had been trained to pray, to obey, to close their eyes when praying, to be respectful, but they had been loved and hugged and included and involved, and their sincere hearts came through the photos in a way I seldom see.

Father, as another little one is on its way to join our own Lucas clan the end of next month, I pray that we will always let the little ones come to You and not hinder them. May we train in love, teach with joy, and value their hearts, minds, and souls. 

 

As I go out to the kitchen right now to mix the next batch of bread and rolls, I hold up all those I love to the heavenly Father with this prayer,

"May each of us become as a little child--humble, trustful, and sincere--that we may enter the kingdom of God!"

Kitty on the Telephone Pole

 A stray dog in the neighborhood may or may not have had something to do with our neighbor's cat ending up perched at the tip top of a telephone pole in White River.

 

Much like the eagle Danny photographed this morning, only the kitty scenario happened after dark, when it was hard to get a picture and plus rescue operations were not worrying about photos. All we know is that suddenly a text was telling us about the situation and asking us to pray that the cat would somehow be gotten down. It had been up there at least 24 hours already because it was too scared to come back down.

I googled how to get a cat to come down from a tree (because I figured a tree was more ordinary than a telephone pole for a cat to climb) and learned that a cat will usually come down on its own. 

But if not--set a can of fish or warm some tuna and let its fragrance waft up past the kitty's whiskers.

Do not, said google, call the fire department. Fire departments really should not have to deal with cats up high. 

However, one can always call one's neighbor--especially if the neighbor happens to have an 18-year-old son named Danny who is strong and tall and knows where a special ladder is that is sort of like a tree-hugger.

Danny loaded the ladder, unbeknowns to me, and drove up to see what he could see.

Darkness had settled over the new lots at the edge of White River where our friend lived, but a bright light was shining toward the top of the telephone pole.
Danny set up the ladder and climbed to the very top, reaching as far as he could. 

But it wasn't quite far enough. He could not quite reach the cat's leg.

Now what?

He climbed back down and searched in the truck, finding a box. Back up he climbed, gingerly keeping from touching any wires. The cat could not be coaxed into the box. Danny climbed back down and found a crate in the truck and climbed up again.

The kitty seemed to want to be rescued, but was quite nervous about the crate. It took four tries, but finally it was coaxed into the crate, and down Danny came, much to everyone's relief.

A few days later, the neighbor came whose kitty had been rescued. His daughter came with him, bringing a Black Forest banana bread. 

"You do not need to share this!" our friend told Danny stoutly. It was a thank you for his wonderful act of heroism! This mighty rescue had been told about all over town, the neighbor said,

"at the bar, at Wigwam, all over!" 

Wow! Danny has become famous in White River!

When a volunteer fireman from White River last week asked Danny his name when they met at a fire, the man said, "Oh, I know who you are!" He had been told about the kitty rescue!

News travels like wildfire in a little town like this!

When the Devil Wants Your Attention--Look at Jesus

The devil has wanted a lot of my attention lately--vying for it in many ways. 

He wants lots and lots of attention--especially attention that should be devoted to the Lord.

 

But he can also want the attention that should be devoted to loving our spouse and children well, or attention that should be given to all manner of loving well and doing good--he's just miserable and nasty that way--sort of like our horned goats that get in our way any time we want to cross our bridge or go gather eggs and such useful things.

Like Bell here, (who Danny has nicknamed Dumbbell) the devil likes us to stand around scratching his head and pampering him when we should be giving him the boot and worshiping God, listening to bird songs, praying always, doing our job, minding our own business, keeping silent when we should and speaking up bravely when we should, rejoicing in the day He has made, or loving our neighbor.

Sorry for comparing our poor goat to the dirty devil, (though Danny wouldn't mind a bit) but I just thought I'd put a thought out there about keeping our focus where it needs to be--on the Lord. And I am absolutely preaching to myself, grateful for the moments I practice my own preaching, and regretting where I haven't.

At Caring for the Heart about 8 years ago, one of the counselors had a point of instruction to anyone working with people who were seeking healing and freedom from the bonds of sin, emotional pain, or anything else.

"Never address the devil," he told the counselees in no uncertain terms. "He will attack you."

We are no match for the devil. 

"Instead," he said, "ask Jesus to send the devil out of the room. Talk only to Jesus and let Jesus deal with the devil."

Some people think they can just tell the devil off.

Don't.

I watched this happen recently--and wow! Did telling the devil off backfire! At least that is sure what it looked like.  

Instead, we should humbly look to Jesus, talk only to Him, and as we draw close to Jesus, the devil will have to flee. 

I was going through a struggle earlier this week, and I found this picture up in the attic as I searched for other things. I put it in my room to look at often. 

It's just a small way of looking to Jesus.

Who can pay attention to the devil when we are looking into the kind eyes of our Lord, noticing His hands that were wounded for us, and feeling His strong and kind arms around our shoulders?

Meadowlark Encouragement

Friday I decided to try to walk out the driveway to our mailbox. I hadn't tried to do that for months because of weather and exhaustion from chemo.

I almost turned around just down from the house when the cold wind hit me, but I pulled up my winter hood and pressed forward, turning another direction at the curve of the driveway that goes over the little dam. After that, the wind didn't hit me straight on, and I managed to get to the bottom of the steep part of our drive. 

That's when a bird landed on the gatepost at the top of the hill and started singing--a meadowlark!

It was as if God had sent that meadowlark to sing a song of encouragement to me as I tried to start walking again after months of winter and chemo exhaustion. 

Then away it flew, and I walked on--on up the steep place through the dry brown of the winter grass, but with eyes toward the blue sky toward which the lark had taken wing. 

Sometimes it just takes a little bird song to keep walking up our steep places--to help us look up toward the sky instead of down at the dirt at our calloused feet. 

May your steep place today--and your determination to start walking again where you have been downcast or weak--be accompanied by a singing meadowlark.