Lenten Experiment - Day 39 (A Day of Darkness)

I'm always amazed each morning as I wake up to the view outside my kitchen windows. An easterly view means most mornings I can experience the wonder of specatular light shows that many people call "dawn" as the sun makes its appearance from behind the large hill across the road. Today, misty fog and droplets of rain permeate the blackened hillsides around our home. The spacious carpeted field rolling out before the window, gives way to more fields and bushy tree sentinels guarding the streams and creeks. Then just beyond, the treetops are crowned by the barren limestone hills. These hills are now charcoaled from the recent Spring burning.

It's a most appropriate symbol for the darkness of the day before Easter. As I imagine the events of the first century, it's only fitting that today would be a day filled with regret, doubts, sorrow, fear and the overpowering stench of death.

The annual cycle of grass burning brings pungency, dense smoke to the area, ribbons of fire across the night skies, but ultimately and most importantly, it brings new life to the prairie--germinating the prairie grass seeds and revitalizing their growth across the hills. Life and death - the circle of the prairie.

So is Easter--the ultimate completion of the life and death cycle prophesied from the Ancient of Days.

A new dawn is approaching - it is imminent, certain - reassuring is the promise of Easter morning.

The Lord's lovingkindnesses never cease; His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is His faithfulness. (Lam 3:22, 23 NASB)

Lenten Experiment - Day 32 (Frequent Companions)

Life and death are frequent companions.

This week I've seen them once again vying for my attention, silently sitting at my doorstep, patiently watching and waiting. They have stories to tell. Sadness and joy; struggle and pain; beauty and hope.

In the midst of the birth pangs of Spring, tiny reminders of the shortness and sacredness of life surrounded us. From the flattened toad on the driveway to the gnawed-on rabbit I found in our yard yesterday, life cycles are an imminent part of this life. Even the turn of seasons reminds us of this fact - it is ever before us.

It's also evident in the illness that has afflicted one of our 13-year-old male dogs. Watching his deterioration the past couple of weeks has been disheartening. Both he and his littermate, Chubby, have been hardy souls. Just last week, he was following me up to the barn to feed horses, as has always been his habit. Then, this week, with each passing day, he showed increasingly more distress.

Crackers himself has survived being hit by a car and Parvovirus and then last summer he was stepped on by one of our horses. Life in the country can be a challenge and we've seen that in these many circumstances, and in the struggles we currently face. He's a survivor though. He's proved it over and over again.

Tonight when I got home from work he was more alert and even ate some meat I hand-fed him. He showed signs of feeling better and I was encouraged. He's drinking water better and I'm ever hopeful that "this too shall pass."

When I started this blog yesterday I honestly thought that it was the end for our sweet dog, but as I've found in every situation--there is ALWAYS hope.

Whether it's the hope of new life in the colors of Spring or the hope of a peaceful passing to a new future, there is ALWAYS hope.

My soul, wait in silence for God only, For my hope is from Him. (Ps. 62:5 NASB)

Lenten Experiment - Day 28

I just couldn't let the week go by without recognizing the passing of winter into spring. This usually occurs each March around the 20th or 21st - the Vernal or Spring Equinox. So, we have just passed that milestone - Welcome home, Mr. Spring! And it's been a momentous week from that Springtime perspective - I mean come on I think Noah might have just ramped up his building efforts if he had been around this week. The deluge cometh . . . and it came and it still comes.

I'd really love to know just how much rain we've had this week. To satisfy my insatiable curiosity, I've searched on-line and come up a blank, but my dear husband just volunteered to go out and check the rain gauge - so I'll report back in a moment with those results. Ta-Da! The results are in - just under 4". Not sure how accurate our little plastic rain container is, but that's the verdict at least out here on the prairie.

In the meantime, let's talk about the rain a bit. Here in central Kansas, we've just journeyed through one of the driest winters I can ever remember. Snowfall was practically non-existant, thus contributing to the deep crevices throughout lawns, fields and pastures. Most people reveled in this respite from frigidity and snowy driving conditions, only to wake up the 80 degree temperatures earlier in March. Another anomaly of weather conditions. But, I'm sure you're not really interested in my weather analysis - I mean I didn't go to school to be a meteorologist.

However, there's all kinds of truths I could glean from this soggy Spring Break week here in Manhattan, Kansas. But you probably don't want to hear that either. You . . . just . . . want . . . it . . . to . . . STOP. . . raining. Sorry, I have no control over that. Only the one who made the heavens and the earth can water the earth; can give or take away blessings. "His going forth is as certain as the dawn; and He will come to us like the rain, like the spring rain watering the earth." (Hosea 6:3b NASB)

What a promise. And, right now, after living through last summer's excessive heat and the winter's barrenness, I'm viewing this week as a blessing. It's the only option; it's the best option; the most perfect option. There is no other.

Oh, and need I state the obvious, right now at this very moment - it is raining.

Lenten Experiment - Day 22 (Yellow is the Color of Spring)

What's been goin' on with the weather this winter? I still can't get over the 80 degrees every day this week in Kansas. Really? I know it's lifted spirits and helped many of us think of an early summer. Even the trees and the flowers are confused. They are blooming in droves. Yellow is the color of Spring, I think.

Yellow daffodils and forsythia spindles sprout up from the brown winter barrenness. Bright sunshine sparkles through the branches ushering in warmth and promise of new life. Spring surprises abound tucked away in every corner of God's 80 acres.

"And why are you anxious about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these. But if God arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:28-30, 34)

So with all the said, it truly is amazing to view the intricacies of a simple daffodil, watching its delicate petals flutter in the breezes. It only blooms where it is planted - it's at its very best when still rooted and grounded. Much like I need to be.

Lenten Experiment - Day 18 (Thoughts on Springing Forward)

What would Spring time be without a reminder of longer, sun-filled days, green shoots and buds-a-blooming?

Tonight when we go to sleep and try to slumber, our internal chronometers will hardly realize what's happening. Then suddenly we will wake up tomorrow and 8 a.m. will reallly be 9 a.m. "Spring Forward" it's called. Or for the scientists among us, it is Daylight Savings Time.

What are we really saving though? Daylight? Time? Electricity? Personally I don't look forward to losing an hour's sleep right now. I much prefer the extra rest that comes in the Fall as we move our clocks backward.

But Spring is nearly here--there's no stopping it, despite the fact that it isn't truly official until March 21. However, this year Spring has been with us most of the Winter as well. This week's forecast here in Kansas calls for highs in the 80s. Unbelievable for mid-March. I can remember many a March when snow still covered the ground and icy winds blew across the prairie hills. Craziness!

But, then I enjoy a little craziness now and then - it keeps life interesting. So, with that said I guess I had better quit being crazy and get to bed now that it's really 1:23 a.m., not 12:23 a.m. like my computer's clock is trying to tell me.

Oh, and I almost forgot - enjoy the extra light tomorrow - it should raise your spirits. I know it will mine.