A Walk Through Daybreak

Saturday I awakened to a six o'clock blackness--quiet and full of promise. Expectant adventure. Painted heavens. Monet light. Refreshed peony petals, awash in morning dew. Prairie walk of wonders.

Unfathomable glory in a morning nature walk. I so wish the rest of my family could experience the wonder, see the glory, understand my crazy nature notions. Guess I'm too much like my dad - lovin' the land, inhaling the fragrance of farm.

My older daughters have the stars of shiny city lights in their eyes. I remember that age when all I wanted was the fast-paced excitement of busy streets, exotic restaurants and entertainment choices. Experience has changed all of that; maybe it's the face of a life learned. Something heard from afar; beauty all around.

Experience has gone beyond--grown into something sacred--wonder, awe, contentment, peace.

Splendor and majesty are before Him, Strength and beauty are in His sanctuary (Psalms 96:6 NASB).

Even one of our cats enjoyed the tall grasses--hiding, stalking, playing. Glassy eyes pointed on its prey. Ringed tail at attention, saluting the dawn.

Criss-crossing hillsides dotted with Spring flowers--iris, nameless, nomad wild flowers, and pink prairie roses blushing as they meet the sun.

Then there are the fragile, fairy blues. Each Spring their spindly feathery stems take flight among the grasses and each year my feeble attempts at capturing their glory for the digital world falls short. The blue fades, the wind blows, something distracts from their magic. This year . . . well, you decide.

It continues to be an exercise in patience. hhmmm? But despite their ever-frustrating behavior, I persevere because something tells me the pursuit of grace is all worth it.

It's another step of walking through daybreak.

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)