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The years teach much which the days never knew.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Seasons End In Various Stages Of Bloom

I’ve been mulling over the thought of seasons ending in various stages of bloom.  It was below freezing through the night and this morning and as I look out the windows of my warm home, I see all around, summer is falling to the ground. The trees are losing their leaves, many fewer on the trees today than yesterday… more all over the lawn and field. The roses, hydrangeas and other flowering plants are losing their beauty, ending in various stages of bloom.

The wood burns hot in my woodstove… wood cut from huge trees that still had more life in them, but instead of standing to provide shade, they were cut down to provide heat.  The seasons of those trees came to an end.

The beautiful rosebuds on sturdy bushes remind me there’s still more life in those canes. The tender new hydrangea mopheads amidst hundreds of large, dry flowers affirm life in the woody canes.  In a matter days, these freezing nights will signal an end to this season of blooms and left behind will be brown, dry flowers and leaves on the ground.

A few days ago, our daughter and grandbaby moved to their own home.  Another season ended.  At the end of that day, Proverbs 14.4 came to mind: “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean…”  That night, as I stood in the empty room, I surveyed the white walls, white curtains, and the bed with no linens, I marveled at the starkness of a season that had come to an end.  It was good for me to see it. This is not meant to be a maudlin commentary, but to just reflect that the busyness of the care and feeding and dressing of babies, the cooing, oohing and aahing, the furniture, the fixtures, toys, the crawling and climbing, the laundry and blankets are the things of a particular season.

I’d never, ever have imagined the season that just passed — that we’d have a granddaughter growing up in our home (albeit, yes, 9 months is a very short while).   The Lord was sure sweet to give us the 9 months on either side of her birth.  I can say that with sincerity and gratitude now.  I’m keenly aware that I had no grasp of what that season of bloom would be like or how it would feel.

Reflecting on seasons that have passed, some in bloom, some far spent, I’m reminded how brief each season actually was.  Hard? Yes. Arduous? Yes.  Thrilling and new? Yes.  Tiring, yet rewarding?  Yes.  Tender and sweet? Yes.  Cold and dreary? Yes.  Sunny and breezy? Yes.  But the interesting thing common to all the seasons that’ve passed?  They’ve all passed in what felt like the midst of them.  By this, I mean, seasons have ended before we thought they would’ve (or should’ve). I’ll bet it’s been the same for you, hasn’t it?

Today, the cold breeze signals change, a season ending in bloom in the midst of the next one in bud.
I stand in the midst of melancholy memories and happy plans for days ahead: anniversaries, weddings, birthdays and family gatherings intermingled with a whole bunch of dailies.

Seasons end in various stages of bloom.
Seasons overlapping seasons. Some still in bloom.  Some will seem to be arduously endless and some will seem to end too soon.  But each will have served its purpose.

To every thing there is a season
and a time to every purpose under heaven…
He hath made everything beautiful in His time…
Ecclesiastes 3.1, 11



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Faith Made Surer In Trials

It’s not in the bright, carefree summer days that faith’s made sure, it’s in the rain, the cloudy days, and cold, sleepless nights, it’s in waiting rooms, empty mailboxes, sorrowful news that faith’s made surer. Faith is made surer in times of great alone-ness, struggle, steep climbs — uncharted territory. Faith made surer isn’t cheap, fleeting, emotional, cushy, easy.

More and more that it’s surer faith I desperately want — it’s surer faith I need day by day. And as I read the Word and as I read years of

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Writing Raw

Tonight I’m doing something I never do: writing raw. On purpose.

On purpose, generally, I never write raw. I write. I let it set. I come back and rewrite. If it seems pretty set, I “publish.” Tonight I’m writing raw.

Eighteen months ago a journey began here at our house. Totally uncharted territory. Big time. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to feel, I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t know what to say.

But time went on… and as time went on, I began

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Thousands of Pictures to Sort

I’m in the midst of an overwhelming project: I have thousands of pictures to sort. Earlier today I was standing next to a table lined with boxes into which I’m distributing the thousands of pictures. It never seemed like we took a lot of pictures. At the time.

What I remember of the early days was buying film and flash bulbs, taking pictures during special events and occasional pictures of our children’s milestones or accomplishments. And those quick get the camera adorable poses. We’d get to the end of a

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Living 99 Years

Living 99 years… determining to finish well.

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Beginning. Again.

But I want to do this… I want to write this blog — I want to finish what I’ve started. Time’s slipping by and I want to finish well.

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Daily Devotionals

Daily Devotionals: potentially instructive, potentially destructive.

Isn’t it interesting what the Lord uses in our lives to speak to us? He speaks through His Word, He ministers to us through teaching, poetry, testimonies, music, His creation; He works in us through joys and sorrows, hardships, grief, loss, trials, and countless other ways. He blesses us with all of these things — though we often miss seeing His signature it at the time. He blesses us with all these things — if we’ll receive them with that recognition.

Do you

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Nothing new never means nothing’s new

If you’ve been a reader or subscriber to this site for any length of time, you’ll very quickly see that nothing new never means nothing’s new. But, I wanted to pop in and say, everything’s okay — nothing’s new and everything’s new and I hope to begin writing again soon. I love to write this blog. I love to share what God’s doing, showing me, working in me and in us all. I love to connect with sisters around the world and love to affirm the goodness and glory of

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Mother’s Happy Day 2017

a child, unclear on the concept, loaded the dishwasher so carefully for me.So many “Mother’s Day” entries have filled my journals — tomorrow will be another, Mother’s Happy Day.

As I read this morning’s entry of Streams in the Desert I marveled at how many of the examples were part of the fabric of my experience as a mother and how many times the Lord gave me not what I wished, but what I needed. He gave me not what I asked for, but all that I hoped for.

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Of Roses & Wayward Children

A Welcome Home message from Mother’s Happy Day ~ 2004

The topic I feel led to share tonight transcends cultures, language and socio-economic boundaries or barriers. When a child wanders out of the way, it doesn’t matter what you’ve got, what you know or what you don’t. It doesn’t matter what you’ve planned or what you hoped would happen. It doesn’t matter where you live or where you’ve been, when a child wanders out of the way, it is a heaviness only a mother or dad of a wayward child

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Thank you for joining me here today, may the Lord bless you and your home.