The sun wants to come out to play, but the gray clouds hold the sunshine back. Glimpses of yellow daffodils appeared a day ago, but today they keep their heads covered as the veil of cold conceals them. At dusk snow flakes mutter winter’s last moan. What happened to yesterday’s rain showers and thunderstorm? Is Spring hiding?
It is hard to fathom how much love can fit into one person’s heart. God is the ultimate example, as He cares for each of us perfectly. He has made each of us perfectly, and equipped us with a big enough heart to love all who surround us. Our loving Father shows us the way to love. Love is seen in the prayers of one soul or many.
This first week of December begins with morning aglow in pinks and oranges, and ends with clear, star-lit nights. The wintry skies and precipitation are predicted in the upcoming days though. The weather like health can turn with no permission sought or granted. Too many of my loved ones are in battle for their health, needing pain lifted and minds freed. That neighbor, brother, or sister has a struggle for life today that is different from you or I’s cross-to-bear. Stand in their shoes for even a minute. The heart feels and melts. I want to take this burden from my loved one. Poet Robert Frost wrote, “the best way out is always through.” Prayers are said at this moment and repeated daily sometimes hourly. Sometimes a miraculous healing happens and we rejoice, and other times little miracles happen along the journey, getting us through the dark clouds. Prayers are said for God’s love to be felt along the journey.
Water, sun, my life
Body, mind, spirit, my God
River nourish my soul roots.
August 1, 2016
Lake vapors into clouds
Blues bluer, greens greener, rain
Grays grayer, a mist.
August 1, 2016
Water… rain water, river water, lake water, ocean water, tear drops, sweat, and our blood. Precious life. H2O. Life’s commodity. Substance. I now drink water, at least a gallon everyday. My 24 ounce insulated beverage tumbler is filled 3+ times a day. H2O is cleansing my body and I am losing weight this summer. Down 10 lbs. Health and healing inside and out.
“All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea—whether it is to sail or to watch it—we are going back from whence we came.” John F. Kennedy, 1962
Bird life on Island Lake this summer is very active. Forty-one loons and counting as more were being hatched this week. Two families of ducks frequent the boat dock and lake side looking for handouts. Apparently vacationers were feeding them, and the presence of more people posed the promise of more handouts. Duck audacity was proudly displayed even with our 85-lb labrador, Midnight present. Midnight had a whining fit as we kept him on the porch until the ducks and ducklings were back in water swimming safely onto their next destination. Flies, butterflies, and dragonflies flew with the breeze. Owls by night and chipmunks by day sat on the tree limbs watching the life underneath. Co-existence.
The summer rains followed Dean, my sister, and I to our beloved Minnesota. It rained everyday we were at Island Lake. But each day also included some sunshine and low 80’s. Thunderheads would build up with steam as the day went along. Then, the winds would blow the rain across the lake in sheets, causing ripples and then white caps in the lake. The cool north air would follow. Those storms created some awesome views from the porch of our favorite little red cabin or the boat dock. Dean captured a few awesome photos. Our Midnight embraced the noisy storms outdoors or on the porch with us. The thunder sounds different at Island Lake than in our Missouri home. Momma loon and her baby weathered the white caps in the bay, bobbin with each wave. Dean caught the reflection in the water as a double rainbow arched above the lake. Friendships continue after so many years. And new ones form even amongst the dogs. Another memorable week at Valhalla.
Life gets stagnant from time to time. Satiety, boredom, ennui sets in. Another time the demands of this person and that project adds up to a multitude of “have to” rather than “want to” chores. So what do you do to get out of that funk, evolve into a better mood for the day or status in your life? You spontaneously take a 24-hour breather, an overnight retreat somewhere neutral. Dean and I did just that. On Saturday into Sunday we drove the Missouri country highways in St. Charles, Warren, Franklin, Washington, St. Francois, Jefferson, and St. Louis Counties. Saturday afternoon we stopped at a local winery. By evening we found a state park to eat and finally lay our heads down.
Sunday morning, another overcast start to the new day. But silence resignated instead of the buzz of street traffic and urban noises. I gathered my sundress, dressed quietly to not wake my sweetheart. Stepped out the back door, leaving just a screen door between me and the quaint hideaway I slept in. I sat in a lawn chair situated on the deck overlooking the slopes of huge trees leading to the river valley. The cardinals and finches sang. Then a hush before the dark cloud rolled over with a hum of pitter-patter on the dense leaves. I heard the raindrops approach before they where atop the trees in front of me. A steady rain, gently watering the earth.
Queen Anne’s lace, orange day lilies, and pink coneflower swayed with the breeze and occasional rain shower. Darker clouds rolled in with sheets of rain coming down as we dined at the state park cafe. We waited out the sudden outburst, and then made it to the jeep for a drive to the motel seated on a high ridge over the Meramec River. “Where do the butterflies go when it rains”, I thought aloud. Butterflies hide when it rains, like they do at night. They hide under the shelter of large leaves or a pile of leaves. Sometimes butterflies go under rocks or structures. But other butterflies just put their head down on the grass or bushes closing their wings tightly. If the rains are heavy, their wings are damaged and they never make another flight. Where do you hide when the weather gets rough?
On Sunday morn, I awoke at my weekday rising time of 5 am something. My bio clock keeps ticking on time. Darn it anyway. I join my feline friends in the living room and lie on the trundle bed snuggled under the throw while gazing at the picture window. Celine and Jo are situated on the love seat next to the window, their favorite perching spot. Celine had been there for awhile, dozing from time to time until the tweet of a neighborhood sparrow arouses her. Jo, the single male cat in the house just arrived to the scene after his night of prowling in the house. He cackles at the birdie, premeditating the pounce. Jo, our daughter’s Tabby takes every opportunity to escape to the outdoors. I cannot blame him. Pennylane, known as “Pounds of Penny” snoozes while her sassy plumposity lies on the floor nearby. And Pixie, the eldest feline and Midnight, the dog have not awoke yet, snoring with the other remaining humankind in the bedrooms. I watch the December sky turn from a midnight blue to a fuzzy and fluffy white with a tinge of purple behind the bare tree silhouttes. The silence so clear, a quiet moment with God. Creation speaks as the pastor did at church later that morning. “Trees” written by Joyce Kilmer in 1914 …
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Summertime textures and a palette of colors keep the canvas alive. The humid afternoon storm cleared with a lone sunflower opening as the clouds parted. A seed remnant from bird feed tossed during the past long and cold winter sprouted in our moss basket near the kitchen window and has grown to bring sunshine to my day. In the evening a breeze cuts through the humidity as Dean and I drive down the country highway to the farm where our greenhouse resides. Wispy feather clouds less than an hour before sunset seem to paint a silhouette…
Wispy feathers grace
golden eye with black shadows
hides behind hat brim
Anna Marie Gall
June 17, 2014
Gentle rains sprinkled the Missouri earth early last week. An even soak for our plants that just came outdoors from their winter home of the garage and back bedroom. Yesterday, I finally had a day at home to prune and primp the large moss baskets of wandering jew, Moses-in-cradle, bridal veil, and dragon-wing begonias as well as our several pots of succulents, arrowheads, and ferns. As the day went, the humidity was building up, it looked like rain 2 or 3 times before the dark cloudy skies finally broke loose come early evening. I had my hair pulled up away from my face while I worked, ringlets formed by the steamy air like I had used a curling iron. The native pets became restless as the day went. Heavy raindrops and loud claps of thunder drove Celine, our cat under the furniture. Midnight, the dog panted with nervousness. The pets seemed relieved with Dean’s arrival home from his 8-hour round trip Sunday visit to his youngest son in Springfield. Devastation as tornadoes swept south of us through Arkansas, though violent thunderstorms hit most of Missouri. A long night though the sun shined bright this morning, glistening off of ultra green leaves and grass. Prayers go out to those in Arkansas. The song There’s Got To Be A Morning After by Maureen McGovern …
There’s got to be a morning after
If we can hold on through the night
We have a chance to find the sunshine
Let’s keep on looking for the light
Oh, can’t you see the morning after?
It’s waiting right outside the storm
Why don’t we cross the bridge together
And find a place that’s safe and warm?
It’s not too late, we should be giving
Only with love can we climb
It’s not too late, not while we’re living
Let’s put our hands out in time
There’s got to be a morning after
We’re moving closer to the shore
I know, we’ll be there by tomorrow
And we’ll escape from darkness
We won’t be searching anymore
Also referred to as the vernal or March equinox in the northern hemisphere, the spring equinox has come finally! Oh, the joy! And what a lovely day this first day of spring in Missouri! Just so happy to FEEL spring! I had my indoor Tai Chi class at my lunch hour, though I walked outdoors in sunshine and a brisk breeze to get back to my office and strolled for 10 minutes during my afternoon break today. Picturesque!
All things spring …
Anna Marie Gall
March 20, 2014
Elisabeth Elliot, a Christian speaker and author who devoted her life in missionary work, lost 2 husbands while in this work, now resides with her third husband of 37 years and both retired from heavy travels. Elisabeth’s works are down to earth. See http://www.elisabethelliot.org
for more information on this amazing inspirational woman. There are many differences to my life and Elisabeth Elliot’s, though similarities indeed. My education is not in theology nor my travels and work with tribes in Ecuador or Africa. I have not written books or spoke at huge conferences. Though I am a Christian and I am educated with a summa cum laude honored Bachelors of Art degree in Human Resource Management. I use my education and God-given gifts of organization and leadership with working Americans, and attempt to write inspirational thought with work communique and this WordPress blog. I speak on occasions to fellow business colleagues. Elisabeth Elliot is quoted,“It is God to whom and with whom we travel, and while He is the End of our journey, He is also at every stopping place.”
I am at “a stopping place”. I can count on my two hands the number of times I can recall “a stopping place.” Every stopping place is God-ordered. I do not sense a brick wall here. Though a time to be still, reflect, pray, get reenergized, and then get back to work. I am being called into some new work…I am still today, reflecting, and praying. The strength will come for that new work. The thick clouds have rolled in this afternoon. A winter snow warning has been issued for Missouri. Predicted are several inches of snow and ice, and severe Arctic winds and temperatures to follow. Sub-zero temps will keep me in my warm house while frosty art paints the windows, God’s healing hands bring health to my body. Tasks can wait at this God-ordered stopping place. The earthly journey comes soon enough.