Tag Archives: Lord

165. Some praise the Lord for Light, the living spark; I thank God for the Night, the healing dark. ~Robert William Service, “Weary”

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Night, the beloved.
Night, when words fade and things come alive.
When the destructive analysis of day is done,
and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.
When man reassembles his fragmentary self
and grows with the calm of a tree.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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The air was crisp and cool; day’s light had just slipped away.  Wet blades of grass sparkled in a kind of diamond-dusted majesty under the glow of a rising harvest moon.  As if to punctuate my scattered thoughts, tiny aircraft lights glided from time to time through the darkening indigo sky.  When I began glancing around the yard, the images that confronted me seemed to be popping up like photos in a slowly advancing slide show.  The first one I saw was of the red turk’s caps underneath the rose arch, then the white moonflowers on the neighbor’s fence, fattening seed pods under the oak, a Celtic cross, a flying moth, an intermittently  shrouded moon.  The spell was broken only for a short while when the fragrance from my potted herbs temporarily seduced my nose.  Then the slide show started up again with a flash of yellow and white lights, followed by a rustling noise, leafy branches hanging low, a sculpted monk, stone rabbits, and a fleeting little lizard.  Music in the distance floated down the alley, and when I turned to follow the sound, I was startled by ghostly shadows dancing on the shed in the deepening darkness.  However the fear was fleeting and not enough to alleviate my growing sleepiness.  It wasn’t until water tapped noisily in the nearly drained fountain and a pair of feral cats came meowing at my feet that I was jolted out of my reverie.  And it had been such a lovely respite for a weary soul, always is when under the holy hosts of heaven that light the night.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and year…   ~Genesis 1:14  ✝

164. Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. ~George Eliot

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Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns.
~George Eliot

**I was hoping you could see that the morning glory below, heavy with dew after the rain, was an awesome, pink delight to behold, but the image is too smalll here for you to see its alluring sparkle.

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Northerly winds in the night blew our gray, rain-bearing clouds away, and the day dawned under a fresh, China blue sky.  Layers of dust that had been blowing in on southerly winds for weeks were washed away, sent back to the soil from whence they came.  As a result heaven’s dome along with the landscape looked sparkling clean and pristine.  In the day’s early light growing green things shined greener, new growth pushed up on rose canes, seedlings appeared in soil once parched and cracked by summer’s fiendish assaults.   Wildlife, though always smaller in number in October, flew, crawled, and buzzed with renewed energy and enthusiasm in the aftermath of the recent slow, soaking rains.  And so with a bit of an almost frosty nip in the air, this day evolved into our first quintessential, autumn day.  How, then, on such a day, could the early call to venture out in the yard, camera in hand, have been ignored?  Or how could it have been a surprise that the vignettes I found were so exquisite that all I could muster, with eyes blurred by joyful tears, was praise for the Holy One whose presence amidst the glory was sweetly palpable?

Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.  Let them sacrifice thank offerings and tell of his works with songs of joy.  ~Psalm 107:21-22  ✝

163. The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans. ~Sherwood Smith

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The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected;
I have always considered the rain to be
healing–a blanket–the comfort of a friend.
Without at least some rain…I yearn
for the vital, muffling gift of falling water.
~Douglas Coupland

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It’s apparent after yesterday’s post that I love everything about the phenomenon of rain–the sound of it, the sensual feel of it, the look of it, the smell of it.  But when it comes to rain, it is not simply a love affair in the heart.  It is a worshipful adoration I feel deep down in my soul.  Especially after the long of absence of rain from my world, it is extremely comforting and reassuring to hear the “pitter-pattering” sounds of it falling on the ground, on the rooftop, on the window panes.  Watching it makes me feel as though I’m witnessing, first hand, cascading miracles; listening to it washes through my being like a healing balm that quiets the disturbing sense of separateness from the sacred;  the “sweet tears of heaven” cannot even be ignored in my sleep.

Praise the Lord!  Autumn’s rain has furthered Spring’s promise.  Rejoice.  The evidence of God’s faithfulness has blanketed the land.  Rejoice.  God’s in His heaven and our Savior sits at His right hand.  Rejoice.  The Creator of heaven and earth adores and watches over all that He has made.  Rejoice.

This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.  ~Psalm 118:24  ✝

157. September days had the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in their lengthening evenings was a prophetic breath of autumn. ~Rowland E. Robinson

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the air is different today
the wind sings with a new tone
sighing of changes coming. .  .
~Rhawk, Alban Elfed

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“Summer, barbarous in beauty,” came to a welcomed end here sooner than usual after the circle of equal light and night of the equinox.  Now autumn’s harbingers, the Maximilian sunflowers, the Spider lilies, and the Oxblood lilies have all fulfilled their prophesies.  So as I tear October’s days off the calendar, I’m starting to reflect on what I’ve accomplished and learned on my most recent trip around the sun even though the annual time coin of life is not yet completely spent.  With the feverish fret of summer’s torrid temperatures gone at last, the milder weather of the year’s last child is such that I can enjoy that endeavor by rocking and ruminating on my porch, sauntering and snappingto pics in the yard, or by finding a “perch” upon which to sit where I can take in and enjoy fall’s burgeoning spectacle.  For it is in the hushed glory of the year’s waning days, the comforting peace born of its inherent mellowness, and the enthrallment of the Lord’s abiding grace that my cup is filled to overflowing again and again.

For the LORD your God will bless you in all your harvest and in all the work of your hands, and your joy will be complete.  ~Deuteronomy 16:15b  ✝

155. Observe the cautious toadstools…Pale and proper and rootless, they righteously extort their living from the living. ~W. D. Snodgrass

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What did I see today?
I saw a fairies’ gypsy camp.
The tents were toadstools, brown and gray,
Among the bracken, soiled and damp.
~An excerpt from “The Fairy Camp” by Danske Dandridge,
Danish poet and garden muse

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In tales of yore fairies were depicted as pixie-like creatures with gossamer wings, colorful clothing, and magic wands.  Do you believe in them?  The child in me did, and my adult self has had a hard time convincing her otherwise.  It was an especially hard sell when I’d come across toadstools like the ones above.  Such as they never failed to prompt thoughts of fairies that lived in enchanted realms and oftentimes were sighted among flowers, hills, streams, and woodlands.  The storytellers of such tales claimed that the elfish beauties rode on fairy steeds or took to wing in order to flit from flower to flower.  They also said that when a host of fairies gathered together to sing and dance, they were often found in a “fairy ring of toadstools.”  When that was so, we, the readers, were admonished to step lightly around the toadstools or to tip-toe gingerly past them.  Ah, what sweet childhood days were those!  Now the innocence of my youth and my belief in fairy tales may be gone, but not unlike a toadstool that extorts its “living from the living,” I secure my salvation from living in Christ.

For we did not follow cleverly devised stories when we told you about the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ in power, but we were eyewitnesses of His majesty.  ~2 Peter 1:16  ✝

154. “Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” ~Hans Christian Andersen

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Bees sip honey from flowers
and hum their thanks when they leave.
The gaudy butterfly is sure that
the flowers owe thanks to him.
~Rabindranath Tagore

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Could there be a more mesmerizing or glamorous creature than the butterfly?  No matter where I am or what I’m doing, the winged beauties stop me in my tracks.  Envious of their dance and fascinated by the way they feed, I watch in awe as they gracefully float from one flower to another.  On this particular trip to our local Botanic gardens, I was thrilled to get a pretty good shot of a swallowtail in flight.  As you can see, butterflies are beautiful even when their likenesses are blurred.  Butterflies, often described as self-propelled or flying flowers, have long been venerated all over the world.  We see a variety of artistic depictions of them in many cultures, including the 3500-year-old ones on Egyptian hieroglyphs.  They are also the darlings that inspired the images of “butterfly fairies” both in art and as fictional characters in stories.  They have been used as well as symbols of God’s favor, good luck, the human soul, love, and rebirth.  Simply put, they are to the world of insects what the rose is in the world of flowers–incomparably beautiful.

How sweet are Your words (Lord) to my taste, sweeter than honey in my mouth.  ~Psalm 119:103  ✝

149. It would be worthwhile having a cultivated garden if only to see what autumn does to it. ~Alfred Austin, British poet laureate

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Lord, it is time.
The summer was very big.
Lay thy shadow on the sundials,
and on the meadows let the winds go loose.
~Ranier Maria Rilke

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The beauty in the photo above, like the summer sun, is the color of gold.  And her petals have slightly wavy edges that seem to mimic the summer’s waves of heat that lead up to her appearance in the garden where she winks at people passing by with her long, wispy eyelash-like stamen.  In Latin the word “stamen” means “thread of the warp,” and it was Emerson who birthed the idea that “days are made on a loom whereof the warp and woof are past and future time.”  Apparently what he said ‘tis true since these threads of the warp are definitely forerunners of the future.  When they appear in the garden, hurricane season has begun and autumn is drawing near.  But who is she, this fair maiden dressed so elegantly in gold?  She and others like her are called Golden Spider Lilies, Naked Lilies, Surprise Lilies, Golden Hurricane Lilies, and/or Lycoris.  But whatever one calls them, they’re always dressed in their rich, apricot-yellow-orange finery, and their blooms which appear late in the summer after their leaves have disappeared create a lovely sweeping quality in the garden.  The official name of the species is Lycoris aurea, and it originated in China where it is known as “Hudixiao” (Suddenly The Soil Shines).  But she is not an only child; for she has an amazing sibling, Lycoris radiata, the Red Spider Lily.

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Now look again at the yellow one.  I deliberately blurred the outer edges of the photograph so the heart she was forming in the middle was more noticeable.

Acknowledge and take to heart this day that the Lord is God in Heaven above and on earth below.  There is no other.  ~Deuteronomy 4:39  ✝

147. If you wish to know the Creator, come to know His creatures. ~Columbanus, 6th century Irish monk

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A flash of harmless lightning,
A mist of rainbow dyes,
The burnished sunbeams brightening
From flower to flower he flies.
~John Banister Tabb, Roman Catholic priest,
poet and professor of English

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Tabb’s description is of a hummingbird, but it could be said as well of bees, butterflies, and dragonflies, hordes of which I’ve seen of late.   Gulf fritillaries and an assortment of swallowtails have been flitting around the garden for weeks.  Then today I spotted the first monarchs which means their migration from Canada to overwintering grounds in Mexico has begun.  I’m guessing the reappearance of the dragonflies is because recent rains have filled their breeding grounds again with enough water for their nymphs.  The bees are back in greater numbers because the cooler temperatures are encouraging more and more blooms, and as for the hummers, two or three at a time have been coming to our feeder since early August.

John Philip Newell says, “the inclusion of creatures in the garden of God in Genesis is pointing not simply to the outward dimension of the creaturely realm.  It is also showing something of the way of God’s seeing or sensing. . .”  That’s why I I love my garden.  It’s not just about the flowers.  Spending time therein lets me be near all God created and keeps me wanting to know more of the Lord and that which is important to Him.

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. . .”  ~Job 12:7-8  ✝

146. Beauty. . .is the shadow of God on the universe. ~Gabriela Mistral

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The human body needs food to be nourished, but the spirit needs to be fed in other ways. One thing it needs is beauty, and nature has a vast array of beautiful places in which the spirit can be nurtured and healed if need be. I’ve found that time spent in any of earth’s sanctuaries provides me with a better perspective about a whole host of things.  When the senses are heightened and ordered, what’s really important in life becomes ever so much clearer.

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Rachel Carson alleged that “those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.” She’s right because when one is alone in any of nature’s courts, if He is called upon and welcomed, it’s easy to become aware of the Lord’s presence. More importantly if one listens carefully in the midst of the natural world’s profound silences, he/she can hear the Lord speak.

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.  ~Mark 1:35  ✝

143. The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

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The earth has received the embrace of the sun
and we shall see the result of that love.
~Hunkesni (Sitting Bull, Lakota Sioux holy man)

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The flowers in these photos are the result of another year’s embrace of the sun.  It will be the remembrance of them and the haunting song of their colors, separately and collectively, that will lift my spirits when in the months to come I traverse winter’s “vale of grief.”  If my memory of the colors should grow dim, I’ll have but to look heavenward and watch for them in the rising and the setting of the sun on days when a window in the gloom has been opened.  In those moments when they streak the eastern or western horizon in a blaze of glory I’ll remember that as the earth tilts back toward the sun, the sun’s embrace will bring the flowers, their lovely colors, and their songs back.  When they return and the air is filled with the music of many melodies, my prayer for all of us will be. . .

 That the morning sun stirs us with gladness from our beds,
That the winds of March move us happily along the new year’s road,
That the rains of April renew our strength,
That the flowers and colors of May captivate our sight,
That the summer inflame our zeal,
That autumn’s colors stimulate our dreams,
That the silver moon make us wiser yet,
That the Lord keep us young at heart so that
we are full of life, laughter, song, and gratitude
for the holiness and goodness in all that the sun and His love embraces.
~Edited and adapted from a blessing by Fr. Andrew Greeley

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.  Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge.  There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.  In the heavens He has pitched a tent for the sun, which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, like a champion rejoicing to run his course.  ~Psalm 19:1-5   ✝