“A ruined man and Tiger, the kitten. The same world held them both. The tragic capacity of the human race for going off course was a little balanced by the integrity of the animals who were always obedient to the law of their being.”

Scent of Water by E. Goudge

A 95° day with a westerly breeze bringing the fragrance of late summer and playfully wet dogs. The delicate hummingbirds dance beneath our tree in the distance while I, like an audience, sit in the comforting shade of my favorite grand mulberry tree, my bookended pups by my side, watching the show. 

Yet it is all somehow diminished by the return of melancholy, once again. It seems so incongruous on such a brilliant, pretty day but I imagine it is just that which will balance me out with its watering.

Anne

August 23, 2021

The overcast skies, the warmish breeze bringing the scent of water with its movement as my faithful dogs lie by the side of their blind woman. As I sit, I realize I am sort of a blind woman. I get entangled in the concerns of my day and their ties so easily bind me yet, I am not left there. I am gently gifted with the dawning of sight as I open myself and accept the goodness of God all around me.

Gratefully,

Anne
August 16, 2021

Hebrews 12:1-2

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

What I seek is the goodness of God that waters the dry places. 

And water overflows from 

one dry patch to another 

and so you cannot be selfish 

in digging for it.”

The Scent of Water 

by Elizabeth Goudge

It is a lovely day for a picnic, I think, and my doggers heartily agree though they know not where I’m taking them. Outside, together, is all they have need to know. I have chosen a shady tree near the edge of the pond. It is a mosaic of gradient greens, dark to light fluttering sweetly. The breeze is cooling and the smell of the earthy water floats gently upon it. The sounds of a distant lawnmower and birdsong, and is it bugsong?, drift all about me surrounding me in nature’s afternoon dance.

I had hoped that the poppets would swim and join the dance as I enjoyed a soft start to my midday but they stay by my side as if I were a blind woman; wary and watching. The little one copies them in a moment of unusual stillness but is soon easily and abruptly lured away by a pair of dark feathered, imperceptibly, red-throated hummingbirds with the tiniest wings. They are so quick that Bella can only sense them. She jumps where they might be just as they whisk away out of her reach, their instinctual timing impeccable. 

When they return, out of sight of Bella but close enough to me I can almost touch them, it is then that I can’t believe what I see. I am treated to a glimpse of an astonishing passionate salmon-pink throat. It is only for a moment and the miniature bird flies off to a nearby branch to pose, I suppose. The brilliant color is hidden once again. Could it be a volitional greeting intended for a select audience only? I am unexpectedly delighted and lose myself in their frolic.

When I come round again, I become aware of the field of the Canadian geese who have chosen my pond this year. They spread out on the lawn off across from me, safely out of reach of my hunting dogs. They are magnificent and regal somehow. 

I’m reading one of my favorite books again and it has inspired me to sit and seek the watering of God. As the afternoon carries on, my shade becomes less and the temperature more, but my heart swells full with the watering. 

Gratefully,

Anne

August 10, 2021

Running to the Father.

I picture you and I running. We are two little girls running toward the brilliant Sonrise, across a field of golden grain. We meet in the middle grabbing hands, twirling for a moment at the joy of meeting each other. We then continue our run toward the rising Son. As we come near, trembling from the dashing, smiling with excitement, we meet Jesus at the foot of the throne of our Father. He gathers us in His arms so delighted we have come. We feel the rush of His love deep in our chests as His mercy calls out our names. Just as we are, He pulls us in and, together, we fall into the grace pouring out from the very heart of our God, three in One.

Romans tells us that He is doing a great work in us through these struggles of ours. And not only that, He has given us the privilege of running together until we see His glory through it all. The privilege of locking arms as we run toward the Son. I’ll see you there every day until we see this through.

Loving you, Marijo, as you have loved me. 

Gratefully, Anne

August 10, 2021

See Run To The Father

By Matt Maher and Cody Carnes

As I lay upright on my hospital bed struggling to breathe the other night, I wondered if I might die. It was a curious thought devoid of any anxiety or dread. I was actually ok with it. And if I were going to die, I considered what I would want my last thoughts to be. I found that I was surrounded by gratitude and prayed through my list of cherished ones giving thanks for each one…

Then the air conditioning on my hospital floor stopped working. The temperature rose quickly. No overnight visitors were allowed and I was alone. I was too short of breath to get to the door and my fear stampeded into panic. I couldn’t breathe and cry at the same time and I became close to hysteria…my mind flying through options for relief. There were no thoughts of death then only a rocketing relief seeking intensity. I was on high alert with every fiber of my being.

The curious thing is though, that the panic actually opened my airways; that which I thought would be my complete undoing, was the thing that I needed most in that moment. 

After my breathing and the air conditioning were restored, I called my sister who read me the rest of the way into calm. 

I felt ridiculous and fragile but also grateful to be calmly grateful once again.

Anne

July 20, 2021

Hallelujah, Even Here
By Lydia Laird

Right now I feel a little overwhelmed
Right now I could really use some help
Right now I don’t feel like it is well with my soul
I’ve tried to find a way around the mess
I’ve prayed in faith that the night would end
Right here when I just can’t understand
I’ll lift my hands

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here

Somehow I bow and my heart gets free
Too far, too hard becomes so easy
I find peace here in surrendering
In letting go
Sometimes nothing left to give
Ooh, becomes the sweetest offering
And sometimes choosing just to sing
Is the thing that changes everything

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
~~
So I arrived in Albuquerque. Pam, a gracious Phoenix friend who spends her summers in Albuquerque, picked me up and brought me to the boys. My cousin, Shane, met me and connected me with a mechanic for the morning.
The car is drivable but only slowly and with limited distance. The brakes are definitely calling out for help with every stop.
As we settled into another hotel, I went looking for a Walmart to buy dog supplies.
The nearest one turned out to be the very one I used to go to with Philip, right next to his Highland High School.
As I found my way there and back, I passed every known bittersweet connection to him. I was tired and feeling sick and the flash flood of memories proved more difficult than I anticipated. I turned on the radio to the very beginning of a song I have never heard before: the song above. Through my tears, as if Lydia Laird were right there next to me, we lifted our hands and pointed at each memory…”Even there, even there… hallelujah, even over there.”

Over there, his favorIte New Mexican restaurant, I wondered where that was; and even there he bought me my first bicycle shorts, before we were even married; and there, we walked the Old Town square; and there, we danced at some random festival, and there at his beloved Lotaburger and brewery and …

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here…

Feeling the Double Grip,
Anne
July 25, 2021

John 16:33 NIV
“I have told you these things,
so that in Me you may have peace.
In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart!
I have overcome the world.”
❤️‍🩹, Jesus.

As I awaken to what may be a difficult day; as I keep my emotions at bay at the frustrations of unexpected air travel and battle my constant companions of headache and nausea, I wonder if my fragile self will accomplish all that concerns me today…

And then God sends me His Double grip reminder right at the point of my need. John 10: 27-29 I am in His double grip and He will accomplish ALL that concerns me today. 

And here I am sobbing in the airport, not because I have been overtaken by my weakness  but because I am being carried by the One Who makes me strong in it’s midst.

Being held,

Anne

July 25, 2021

As I turned left to begin the road towards  home from Sam’s house in Ohio, I ran into some unexpected delays and detours. I70 is a mess but it turns out that was not my biggest or hottest one. I reserved the title of hot mess for myself.

I started with bladder infection symptoms that evolved into kidney infection symptoms which are not responding to antibiotics. I’m a hospitalized puzzle. Every antibiotic they give, gives me a rash and that makes me an itchy puzzle (with or without a b.)

But how funny, I have Dr Phil as my infectious disease doc and she is infectiously delightful, refreshing and confidence building. 

Look at me! I seem to be building my character every step of the way through this spiteful year…

Anne

July 19, 2021

The clouds are deep and low, ominously meeting the lush greenness of the Illinois horizon. I love the silver green of sunlight on beans and the yellow green of the rolling crops, waving in the breeze. The light is just right and the colors are illuminated against the overcast sky.

The fields call to me from my driver’s seat. My heart is heavy, like the clouds, full of sorrow. The negativity of my past haunts me like a shadow I do not welcome.

I wait for the beauty to penetrate my depths. It is sometimes the only thing that keeps the sadness at bay especially since I don’t have window washers for my eyes if I were to rain while driving.

There are those who are concerned for me and my choices. I guess my truth is that I am only able to take one day at a time, interrupted occasionally with a spritz of hope in the future; often seeking to find joy in the journey when I can manage it. 

Today I find joy in the verdancy of the blowing yellow fields that softly brush the sky. 

Anne
July 1, 2021

The contentment of a day well spent with cool breezes, sunny skies and family. Of a day at last realized after a winter of pain, a welcomed respite even though it is charged with the memories of those not here.

I take joy, nonetheless, in the colors of nature, hair and skin and clothing;  reveling in the smiles and the laughter all around; the earth with its flowers and I with my boys.

We planned this trip last October as Sam was getting ready to move to Dayton. We planned a summer family trek to bring him the rest of his stuff and go to Cedar Point. Philip, Sam and Joe had made a trek there a couple summers ago and this seemed a perfect opportunity to go again.

I decided to go ahead and honor Philip with the boys by keeping the plans.

For me, as with so much, it is a bittersweet delight to carry them out. For the boys there seems to be no element of regret or heartache. 

The boys appear to see only joy filled memories. The ranch was full of him and now so is Ohio.

 “Steel Vengeance was Dad’s favorite roller coaster” one says with fondness.” “That BBQ place was so much better last time with Dad.”  ” Hey, remember that baseball field? You and Dad played while we waited for a hotel”; “With Dad, we all wanted real food so we found this Mexican Restaurant. It was great,” says another. 

We are full of Philip, of course, but theirs extends beyond what they have lost and into fond gratitude for all they have kept. This fills some of my vacant places.

It is a lesson I would do well to practice.

Anne

July 3, 2021