saying goodbye to Papa {part II}

The sky was a soft color of haziness. There wasn't much of a breeze. The smell of salt water and the moisture left on our fingers as we gathered the prettiest of shells and rocks seemed to refresh our souls.

We "combed" the shore for an hour. Inspecting, tossing, keeping, and even sharing the beauty found under the surface.

How often do we really look beneath the surface to see the beauty that's really there? How often do we slow down long enough to see what's been right under our feet the whole time?

How often do we brush off the hardness to see what's been hiding? How often do we hold treasure knowing and believing that it is really that? That treasure is anything and everything you take the time to pick up & hold onto?

I don't do it enough. Oh, how I wish I did, but I don't.

I don't remember to look past the rocks to find the shells. And I'm often so busy looking all around me, that I miss what's been right in front of me all along.

.....................................

We spent a good amount of time that day just being. Being cousins. Being grand-kids. Being adventure seekers and explorers of a world we've grown to love.

We smiled and chased and even just watched.

We pedaled, we slid, and we kept our balance the best we knew how - even when our hearts were aching a bit. Aching at the thought of what was to come.

And you know what, I know that we did everything we were supposed to do.  Before we went to the hospital that day we lived.

We played, we imagined, we made friends, and we even took time to smell flowers that really don't smell so great.  We were together & that's all that mattered.

I think when you know that life is about to change you should always hold on to that which gives you the strength to get through it.  Sometimes it's people, sometimes it's a place, and sometimes it's a little of both. For us, it was a place to play with the people we love most. A place to accept that which we were unsure of with the childlike faith we're called to have - trusting that His best was on the way!

...............................

That morning was the best gift we could have given ourselves. We were slow & unhurried. We found treasure that was worth discovering. We brushed past the exterior and uncovered more of the world that God wants us to see ... the world that is beautiful on even the cloudiest of days that is a gift just waiting for us to truly live in!

saying goodbye to Papa (part I)

We parked the car in one of the emptier ferry lanes.

We'd been traveling most of the day and the smell of salt water and Ivar's was a gift to our senses.

Fish and fries for everyone and then the 20 minute ferry ride to the island we know as home to those we love dearly was perfect in every sort of way.

 The sky was whispering goodbye and we were anticipating what was before us with some uncertainty and some sadness too. Life was going to be different after this visit. Very, very different.

Papa had been admitted to the hospital and wasn't doing well. Dehydration and stroke-like symptoms had over-taken his body, and yet he was surrounded by a family full of faith that saw God's glory even in the hard.

We were full of faith, and toothless grins, and a hope that the joy we could muster up would be enough to see us through.  That {joy} would be more than enough.

There's a whole lot about living life that requires one to muster up joy in the midst of sorrow, pain, anger, and even frustration - especially when you're walking by faith, praying that the One guiding you from one shore to the other knows right where He's going and the best route to get there. When you can find joy in the midst of everything else, you've found the key to a life lived extraordinarily well.
.

I believe that the best thing you can do in the midst of uncertainty is hold on, smile, and circle around the ship you've found yourself on with prayers of thanksgiving and praise of what you know to be true. The truth that God is bigger than anything you will ever face and that He will lead you to calmer waters and restore your soul in ways you can't even fathom.

As we left the shore, I turned just in time to see the lighthouse lantern flicker. It was like a wink saying, "I've got this, and better yet, I've got you."

We let the salty air blow through our hair as we circled the decks, laughing and talking, while watching one shore slip away and the other inch closer.

I think we kind of sensed it from the beginning that it would be a trip we wouldn't forget.

A visit to a place where the sound of voices raised high will forever echo in our hearts and the flicker of the lighthouse lantern will always guide us home.

20 minutes old.

I watch from the road.
She is close.
I can tell.
I need to keep driving, but I really want to just sit here in the quiet of the pickup and watch.
She is one of the last few to calve.
She's a veteran so I don't need to watch her with anticipation of a problem, but even so, I still want to see the miracle of life unfold in front of my very eyes.

I continue down the gravel, knowing that I'm needed there more than I am here.
I watch in my rear-view mirror as the stubble disappears.
I catch myself whispering a prayer for her and secretly hoping that she waits until I get back, but I know in my gut that she probably won't.

20 minutes later as I make my way back down the same gravel road heading west instead of east.
I catch my breath when I come up over the small draw.
There she is.
There "they" are.
It's beautiful.
It's everything it's supposed to be.
It's a miracle called life.

Happy Birthday sweet baby.
Listen to your mama.
Trust her.
Know that she loves you more than anything in this world.
Learn from her.
Make her proud.
Be amazing and be you.
You are a gift.

words to live by from woodrow

You are here to enable the world to live more amply, 

with greater vision,

and with a finer spirit of hope and achievement.

You are here to enrich the world.

a question that's hard to answer.

I was gathered together with a few of my girlfriends earlier this week around a table with candles, and pies, and Mason jars filled with ice cubes melting in the kind of beverage that saturates your soul best : water.

There were slips of brown paper and Heather's handwriting printed on each one. Question marks. Words with purpose. Discussion points. Thoughts shared. Tears wiped away.

We were celebrating friendship and fresh fruit pies and the season of summer.

I came home that evening with my soul and spirit filled to the brim as I thought about seasons. Seasons where we've been refined, where we've sought after purpose and less of ourselves, where we've grown in ways we never thought possible. Why is it that we often want out of the season we're in just to get the next?  Do we think it's going to be better than what we have right now? Are we anticipating something greater instead of seeing what's beautiful and wonderful about the present?  Sadly, I think so.

...............................................

This spring was one of those seasons where I found myself thankful for the fact it was here more often than not. In fact, I don't think it could have come any faster than it did, but oh how I wished for it to ... and then when it got here I did my very best to embrace the good in all of it - praying it would want to stick around for a while. 

I watched calves grow and the hay shed empty.

I watched Ian work harder than ever before, and the ladies watched me watch.

 I cheered about warm days and soft skies.

I savored the green shoots of grass and wheat.

I embraced the quiet and still that rolled through like clouds.

I laughed about a growing puppy and the personality that wiggles its way into your heart like a wagging tail.

I splashed in puddles and thanked God for sunshine while I stomped in muck boots.

I saw my home from different perspectives and angles and worried less about the outside and more about the inside.

I walked with cows and calves, and prayed that my camera could capture the beauty found when the light is just perfect on evenings like this.

I danced a bit more and prayed as I watched my boys dance too.

Spring was good to us.  It wasn't easy or perfect or always right & there wasn't nearly enough moisture, but instead of wishing for summer and giving up on that which was staring us right in the face - I looked for the beauty in the places my feet took me each day. And you know what?! When you know where to look and how to look, you find yourself very aware of the truth your life carries.

It's yours. It's beautiful. It's full. And ... it's God's glory just an arm-length or even tongue-length away.

So the next time you find yourself on the answering side of a question about seasons and which one might possibly be your favorite, I think you should think about answering like this:

This one.

Yes, this one that I'm living right now ... it is my favorite.