The one thing we can count on in life, is change, and now that I am getting "older" and my six children have all moved out and have their own homes, I find myself thinking more about the constant state of evolving. It's my plan to move (evolve) toward a deeper spiritual life.
There was always change in my life, as an Air Force wife and mother of a large family; I thought back then that I handled it pretty well. But now that my later life seems to be rolling along at such break-neck speed, life's changes seem bigger and more significant. Societal changes are also taking their toll on all of us; changes in the economy, in our culture and in daily global events, are giving us cause for tremendous stress and concern. Our faith, our endurance, and our wisdom are always being tested.
So what can we do? The answer, of course, is to find the center of our belief system through peaceful time alone with the Creator; stay calm and know that God is in control, not only in our lives, but His entire Universe. Believe that His plan is perfect and that faith and love are the only things that will endure. Build on these two--faith and love.
I have found the Holy Spirit is sensitive and is only found in that calm place within our soul. I am going to allot extra time to be with Him in quiet solitude and peace and be an activist in my search for deeper spirituality. I will remember to keep my heart open to His promptings and the things that really matter, which are fellowship with Him, love and doing right toward others. Change is a certainty...let His Divine change be in me.
"Grant me the true peace of heart, which the world cannot give." -Thomas a Kempis
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Tennessee Childhood - Part 2
My summers, as a child in East Tennessee were idyllic, indeed....
But the season which surpassed all others was glorious autumn. Returning to school, football games, the county fair, women wearing chrysanthemum corsages and the brilliant changing foliage, all provided a sense of excitement. Year after year, our customs and the seasons, remained fixed in my tiny mountain community.
The arrival of the school year was anticipated for weeks. My mother would take me on the Greyhound bus to nearby Knoxville, where we could shop at the big department stores for school clothes. Even though, I can still remember the smell of the diesel fuel and the stale odor of the tight quarters of the bus, the trip was always one of the most exciting experiences of my young life.
School started in August, while summer still enveloped us with it's relentless humidity. We girls, wore our new dresses, thinking very little about the perspiration that ran down our legs and onto our bobby socks. We were too excited about boys and each other to hardly notice the small nuisance.
The county fair took place in September, just when the world around us was on the verge of turning from deep green to gold, red, and vivid orange. The smell of wood smoke would soon penetrate the mountain air and pumpkins would ripen on the vine--some as big as wash tubs. Ladies skillfully worked on the last touches of their "grand prize" country quilts, braided rugs in vibrant colors, delicate crocheted dollies, primitive artwork and canned goods. Old men spat and quietly whittled as they watched their sturdy women get ready for the special day of competition that would, perhaps, convince family and friends of their individual value. Although, women's work was never done, the county fair was a time of joy and unsurpassed accomplishment for many ladies.
October 31st signaled the end--the end of carefree days and heralded the onset of the winter season. But before that day was over, we children, would fill our handmade pillowcases with hard candy, Milky Way bars, popcorn balls, oatmeal cookies, and fresh fruit, as we "trick or treated" all over town. Back then our parents weren't afraid of the possibility of evil lurking on the other side of a neighbor's door. We were carefree and friendly and trusting back in the 50's.
Life was good and easy then; uncomplicated in our innocence and isolation from the sophisticated world of fancy living; although, the modern world finally caught up to us via the four lane highway, one thing remains to this day-- the beauty of autumn in the mountains of East Tennessee.
But the season which surpassed all others was glorious autumn. Returning to school, football games, the county fair, women wearing chrysanthemum corsages and the brilliant changing foliage, all provided a sense of excitement. Year after year, our customs and the seasons, remained fixed in my tiny mountain community.
The arrival of the school year was anticipated for weeks. My mother would take me on the Greyhound bus to nearby Knoxville, where we could shop at the big department stores for school clothes. Even though, I can still remember the smell of the diesel fuel and the stale odor of the tight quarters of the bus, the trip was always one of the most exciting experiences of my young life.
School started in August, while summer still enveloped us with it's relentless humidity. We girls, wore our new dresses, thinking very little about the perspiration that ran down our legs and onto our bobby socks. We were too excited about boys and each other to hardly notice the small nuisance.
The county fair took place in September, just when the world around us was on the verge of turning from deep green to gold, red, and vivid orange. The smell of wood smoke would soon penetrate the mountain air and pumpkins would ripen on the vine--some as big as wash tubs. Ladies skillfully worked on the last touches of their "grand prize" country quilts, braided rugs in vibrant colors, delicate crocheted dollies, primitive artwork and canned goods. Old men spat and quietly whittled as they watched their sturdy women get ready for the special day of competition that would, perhaps, convince family and friends of their individual value. Although, women's work was never done, the county fair was a time of joy and unsurpassed accomplishment for many ladies.
October 31st signaled the end--the end of carefree days and heralded the onset of the winter season. But before that day was over, we children, would fill our handmade pillowcases with hard candy, Milky Way bars, popcorn balls, oatmeal cookies, and fresh fruit, as we "trick or treated" all over town. Back then our parents weren't afraid of the possibility of evil lurking on the other side of a neighbor's door. We were carefree and friendly and trusting back in the 50's.
Life was good and easy then; uncomplicated in our innocence and isolation from the sophisticated world of fancy living; although, the modern world finally caught up to us via the four lane highway, one thing remains to this day-- the beauty of autumn in the mountains of East Tennessee.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Tennessee Childhood
I grew up in the foothills of the Great Smokey Mountains. Running barefoot through lush green grass in summer and catching fireflies in the dusky evenings of the East Tennessee hill country was as close as a child could get to heaven on earth.
I would wake up early on those cool, moist, summer mornings and with breathless wonder, peek out my bedroom window to seize that first glimpse of the sun and a landscape covered in the dew of a misty dawn. Through the open window, I could smell the fresh earth and the honeysuckles lining the fence around our house. The familiar aroma of freshly ground, brewed coffee merging with the salty fragrance of country fried ham, homemade biscuits and red-eye gravy flowed ever so gently throughout our modest home.
This morning, as I hear the voices of children playing in my Idaho neighborhood, I am reminded of my own wonderful childhood in that Tennessee mountain home.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
I would wake up early on those cool, moist, summer mornings and with breathless wonder, peek out my bedroom window to seize that first glimpse of the sun and a landscape covered in the dew of a misty dawn. Through the open window, I could smell the fresh earth and the honeysuckles lining the fence around our house. The familiar aroma of freshly ground, brewed coffee merging with the salty fragrance of country fried ham, homemade biscuits and red-eye gravy flowed ever so gently throughout our modest home.
This morning, as I hear the voices of children playing in my Idaho neighborhood, I am reminded of my own wonderful childhood in that Tennessee mountain home.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Summer Paradise
Yesterday, at lunchtime, I enjoyed my creamy peanut butter and banana sandwich under the wonderful protection of our two ancient walnut trees in the backyard. Temperatures are now close to 90 degrees, but it's at least 10 degrees cooler there under their enormous umbrella.
The magnificent old walnuts, where two or three families of squirrels make their year-around home, stand next to three filbert trees that are covered in abundance with small sweet nuts. As I sat eating, I watched in awe, as a single brown squirrel worked in a hurried frenzy, running up and down the branches, gathering, breaking open the shells and stuffing the nutritious inner portion into it's fat little cheeks. It seemed to know every inch of the filbert trees by heart and was a master at hanging by it's two hind feet while dangling from the thin, delicate limbs to retrieve it's food. What amazing acrobatics it performed--carefree and completely in touch with it's environment.
Our yard and our adjoining fruit orchard, offer a rich palette of fragrant fruit this time of year and throughout autumn--Bing, Lambert, and Royal Anne cherries, apricots, Italian plums, Cherry plums, Concord grapes, peaches, pears, both red and yellow apples, boysenberries, gooseberries, raspberries, walnuts and filberts.
On most days, if I sit quietly, I can hear the call of a mourning dove or watch a procession of mountain quail, cautiously, walking across the yard; on rare occasions a brilliantly feathered "cock" pheasant will pass through. The property is a virtual paradise in summer and early fall.
It is deliciously peaceful here. These intimate, sacred moments give nourishment to my soul and free my mind to think about the spiritual. I am thankful for a few minutes alone with my peanut butter sandwich and my thoughts.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
The magnificent old walnuts, where two or three families of squirrels make their year-around home, stand next to three filbert trees that are covered in abundance with small sweet nuts. As I sat eating, I watched in awe, as a single brown squirrel worked in a hurried frenzy, running up and down the branches, gathering, breaking open the shells and stuffing the nutritious inner portion into it's fat little cheeks. It seemed to know every inch of the filbert trees by heart and was a master at hanging by it's two hind feet while dangling from the thin, delicate limbs to retrieve it's food. What amazing acrobatics it performed--carefree and completely in touch with it's environment.
Our yard and our adjoining fruit orchard, offer a rich palette of fragrant fruit this time of year and throughout autumn--Bing, Lambert, and Royal Anne cherries, apricots, Italian plums, Cherry plums, Concord grapes, peaches, pears, both red and yellow apples, boysenberries, gooseberries, raspberries, walnuts and filberts.
On most days, if I sit quietly, I can hear the call of a mourning dove or watch a procession of mountain quail, cautiously, walking across the yard; on rare occasions a brilliantly feathered "cock" pheasant will pass through. The property is a virtual paradise in summer and early fall.
It is deliciously peaceful here. These intimate, sacred moments give nourishment to my soul and free my mind to think about the spiritual. I am thankful for a few minutes alone with my peanut butter sandwich and my thoughts.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Kids Need A Space Of Their Own
I'm the mother of six grown children. When they were little I would make them a tent by draping an old quilt over the kitchen table. They would play there for hours when the weather was too cold or wet to play outside. They also loved making forts and club houses or building makeshift tree houses. There were times in the summer that we even sat up a tent in the backyard for them to camp and play in. Rooms and spaces seem to be an essential need in the human experience.
As the children grew older, they wanted their own rooms and we allowed them to decorate them alone and believe me, they each had their individual tastes in what they thought was pretty or "cool". Our boys didn't seem to care much about color or frills, but the girls always had a sense of style and beauty.
When I look back on those early years, I realize how important it was for my children to have their private time in their own personal space. Even though, in many families, it may not be practical to give each child their own room, one side of a bedroom can be solely theirs, where they can express their special and unique personalities. Personality preferences and alone-time should be encouraged daily.
My children are adults now. I believe that allowing them freedom of expression at a young age, gave them a head start in creating and decorating their homes today.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
As the children grew older, they wanted their own rooms and we allowed them to decorate them alone and believe me, they each had their individual tastes in what they thought was pretty or "cool". Our boys didn't seem to care much about color or frills, but the girls always had a sense of style and beauty.
When I look back on those early years, I realize how important it was for my children to have their private time in their own personal space. Even though, in many families, it may not be practical to give each child their own room, one side of a bedroom can be solely theirs, where they can express their special and unique personalities. Personality preferences and alone-time should be encouraged daily.
My children are adults now. I believe that allowing them freedom of expression at a young age, gave them a head start in creating and decorating their homes today.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Friday, July 25, 2008
10 Ways To Start Your Day
1. Say "Good Morning!" (with a smile) to everyone.
2. Brush your teeth immediately after getting out of bed. I just had a visit with my dentist, who said this is a good way to maintain good tooth and gum health.
3. After brushing your teeth, drink 8 oz. of water. It will wake-up your system and get it going. My grandmother lived to be almost 90 years old and always did this.
4. Read a passage from the Bible or some other good source of inspiration.
5. Pray and meditate for 5 minutes.
6. List 10 things in your gratitude journal that you are thankful for.
7. Eat a nutritious breakfast.
8. Don't read the newspaper, turn on the TV, or the computer for at least an hour after waking up. There's no need in hearing the bad stuff first thing in the morning...you'll hear it soon enough, anyway.
9. Kiss and hug each member of your family.
10. Read my blog.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
2. Brush your teeth immediately after getting out of bed. I just had a visit with my dentist, who said this is a good way to maintain good tooth and gum health.
3. After brushing your teeth, drink 8 oz. of water. It will wake-up your system and get it going. My grandmother lived to be almost 90 years old and always did this.
4. Read a passage from the Bible or some other good source of inspiration.
5. Pray and meditate for 5 minutes.
6. List 10 things in your gratitude journal that you are thankful for.
7. Eat a nutritious breakfast.
8. Don't read the newspaper, turn on the TV, or the computer for at least an hour after waking up. There's no need in hearing the bad stuff first thing in the morning...you'll hear it soon enough, anyway.
9. Kiss and hug each member of your family.
10. Read my blog.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Thursday, July 24, 2008
If Dreams Came True
I was married at eighteen years old (just a baby) and left my Tennessee home for sunny California with my husband who was serving in the US Navy. I didn't know at that time, that I would be traveling around the country as a military wife. For the next two decades my family and I moved every two or three years; visits back to Tennessee would be "few and far between".. as they say.
My husband left the Navy and joined the Air Force. I loved the Air Force lifestyle, but still missed my mother and my Tennessee roots. One can never, completely, leave the roots of their raising. Even though, my mother and I talked often over the phone, it was not the same as being with her in person. The last time I saw her was ten years ago--a year before her death, when she was in her mid-eighties.
Last night, I dreamed of her...she was younger than I remember. I touched her face; her complexion was flawless. We walked together up a steep hill and when we reached the top, I ask someone how far we had come... they said about two miles. I looked at my mother, in amazement, because she showed no signs of stress. I mentioned how impressed I was at her good health and the dreamed ended.
If only.... dreams came true.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
My husband left the Navy and joined the Air Force. I loved the Air Force lifestyle, but still missed my mother and my Tennessee roots. One can never, completely, leave the roots of their raising. Even though, my mother and I talked often over the phone, it was not the same as being with her in person. The last time I saw her was ten years ago--a year before her death, when she was in her mid-eighties.
Last night, I dreamed of her...she was younger than I remember. I touched her face; her complexion was flawless. We walked together up a steep hill and when we reached the top, I ask someone how far we had come... they said about two miles. I looked at my mother, in amazement, because she showed no signs of stress. I mentioned how impressed I was at her good health and the dreamed ended.
If only.... dreams came true.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Why I Write
Why write? Someone has said that a writer is someone who writes--as simple as that. Well, that describes me very well. I have written, one thing or another, most of my life. Whether it was love notes (as a little girl), prayers, journals, poems, fiction, or articles for my high school newspaper, I have always felt compelled to write.
What should I write? As the only writer of this blog, I am constantly asking myself that question. What do my readers enjoy reading? One reader may enjoy reading about the everyday musings of the writer, another may enjoy poetry, and another may have a need for spiritual inspiration. So, as a writer, I show up at my desk everyday, usually not knowing what I'm going to write until I start jotting down random ideas onto paper--it's then that a theme starts to unfold and words begin to flow. Sometimes the blog entries are good and sometimes they aren't. But that's the nature of the muse.
My goal in writing, is to create magic between myself and my reader, to make a connection in some profound way. We know it when we read it-- somehow we feel that we've found a kindred spirit. I, continually, search my life experience for the stories, poems and words which may provide a personal link.
Blogging is a wonderful way to practice my writing while building a relationship with my readers. I'll continue "coming to work each day"....awaiting the muse to provide some magic.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
What should I write? As the only writer of this blog, I am constantly asking myself that question. What do my readers enjoy reading? One reader may enjoy reading about the everyday musings of the writer, another may enjoy poetry, and another may have a need for spiritual inspiration. So, as a writer, I show up at my desk everyday, usually not knowing what I'm going to write until I start jotting down random ideas onto paper--it's then that a theme starts to unfold and words begin to flow. Sometimes the blog entries are good and sometimes they aren't. But that's the nature of the muse.
My goal in writing, is to create magic between myself and my reader, to make a connection in some profound way. We know it when we read it-- somehow we feel that we've found a kindred spirit. I, continually, search my life experience for the stories, poems and words which may provide a personal link.
Blogging is a wonderful way to practice my writing while building a relationship with my readers. I'll continue "coming to work each day"....awaiting the muse to provide some magic.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Our Purpose
What is PURPOSE? What is my PURPOSE in life? What is your PURPOSE in life?
I've heard many people say they have never found their purpose in life or have never found what they were "meant" to do.... "Why was I created?" They list great things others have accomplished. They admire or envy teachers, doctors, ministers, artists, singers, influential writers, actors and actresses. They never stop to consider the contributions they, themselves, make on a daily basis. Could it just be... we all live our Special Purpose, moment by moment, everyday of our lives? The very next choice I make could influence the course of events in my life and/or the life of someone else, as it becomes "the domino effect". Nothing we do in life is lost or meaningless. We neglect to see the small mundane decisions, added together, that become OUR PURPOSE.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
I've heard many people say they have never found their purpose in life or have never found what they were "meant" to do.... "Why was I created?" They list great things others have accomplished. They admire or envy teachers, doctors, ministers, artists, singers, influential writers, actors and actresses. They never stop to consider the contributions they, themselves, make on a daily basis. Could it just be... we all live our Special Purpose, moment by moment, everyday of our lives? The very next choice I make could influence the course of events in my life and/or the life of someone else, as it becomes "the domino effect". Nothing we do in life is lost or meaningless. We neglect to see the small mundane decisions, added together, that become OUR PURPOSE.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Wonderful Birthday
Yesterday, I had a wonderful birthday. After taking me to lunch, Jim gave me a beautiful single red rose. The children called in the afternoon and last evening we went to Becka and Tony's for a patio party. They worked hard to make everything perfect for us. The weather was a little cloudy, so it was "just right" for sitting out until after dark. They barbecued hot dogs and hamburgers and also served spinach dip with chips, potato salad and baked beans. Becka made a delicious lemon birthday cake which she knows is one of my favorite flavors.
Today, Jim and I will be out of town, for an unplanned trip to Post Falls, Idaho. The weather is still over-cast, so I expect we will have a cool July drive. Riley (our mini-schnauzer) is getting exciting about the prospect of going with us--he loves to travel and stands patiently beside the car door until I open it and he jumps in.
Thanks to all of you, who sent birthday greetings!!
Have a great day!!
Today, Jim and I will be out of town, for an unplanned trip to Post Falls, Idaho. The weather is still over-cast, so I expect we will have a cool July drive. Riley (our mini-schnauzer) is getting exciting about the prospect of going with us--he loves to travel and stands patiently beside the car door until I open it and he jumps in.
Thanks to all of you, who sent birthday greetings!!
Have a great day!!
Monday, July 21, 2008
My Birthday Blessings
Birthdays have always been "special" in our family. As far back as I can remember, as a child, my family honored each member's birth-date with parties, gifts and scrumptious birthday cakes. It was a time to give thanks for a God-given life. It was a time to say, "thank you for blessing us with this wonderful and unique person." That tradition was passed on, to my immediate family, and continues to this day.
Today is my Birthday......I'm 64 years old!
Last Thursday, my two older daughters, honored me with a birthday luncheon in Spokane, Washington. Jim and I met Lori, Linda and Linda's husband, Mike, for a delicious gourmet lunch at the fabulous restaurant, Luna. We spent a couple of hours, chatting, laughing and having an unbelievably happy time together.
This evening, my youngest daughter, Rebekah, is giving me a patio party at her home. I have had a whirlwind "birthday week'' that I will never forget. I am so blessed to have such a thoughtful and gracious family.
I have had 64 years of blessings. I couldn't have ask for more.
Today is my Birthday......I'm 64 years old!
Last Thursday, my two older daughters, honored me with a birthday luncheon in Spokane, Washington. Jim and I met Lori, Linda and Linda's husband, Mike, for a delicious gourmet lunch at the fabulous restaurant, Luna. We spent a couple of hours, chatting, laughing and having an unbelievably happy time together.
This evening, my youngest daughter, Rebekah, is giving me a patio party at her home. I have had a whirlwind "birthday week'' that I will never forget. I am so blessed to have such a thoughtful and gracious family.
I have had 64 years of blessings. I couldn't have ask for more.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Secret Hideaway
There's a magical spot in the back corner of our property, that I had forgotten was there, until I was walking, Riley, my mini-schnauzer, last week. I had spent many days there--several summers ago--looking out onto our fruit orchard, as I escaped the heat of July and August. I called it "the arbor" back then.
The tops of a cherry plum tree and two apple trees have come together to form a well shaded, cavern-like, ten by ten foot, enclosure; the entrance is almost my height. Grapes, on overgrown vines, hang from the trees like a "garden on Eden" painting. The fragrance of ripened fruit permeates the air. This place is so isolated, that no one would know I was sitting here, unless, they were looking, keenly, in my direction.
Excited, about rediscovering this secret hideaway, I entered with a sense of renewed awe and reverence. As I looked above me, I could see that neither, rain nor wind, could hardly penetrate this lush little paradise, although, it was obliviously getting enough morning light to retain it's emerald green carpet, atop the moist, ebony earth.
Back, behind the house, I found two dark green Adirondack chairs, which would form the perfect "sitting room" underneath my beloved "arbor". With pen and notebook, in hand, and Riley at my feet, I am exhilarated with the prospect of reading and writing in the solitude and comfort of this cool, enchanted, tiny chapel in the trees.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
The tops of a cherry plum tree and two apple trees have come together to form a well shaded, cavern-like, ten by ten foot, enclosure; the entrance is almost my height. Grapes, on overgrown vines, hang from the trees like a "garden on Eden" painting. The fragrance of ripened fruit permeates the air. This place is so isolated, that no one would know I was sitting here, unless, they were looking, keenly, in my direction.
Excited, about rediscovering this secret hideaway, I entered with a sense of renewed awe and reverence. As I looked above me, I could see that neither, rain nor wind, could hardly penetrate this lush little paradise, although, it was obliviously getting enough morning light to retain it's emerald green carpet, atop the moist, ebony earth.
Back, behind the house, I found two dark green Adirondack chairs, which would form the perfect "sitting room" underneath my beloved "arbor". With pen and notebook, in hand, and Riley at my feet, I am exhilarated with the prospect of reading and writing in the solitude and comfort of this cool, enchanted, tiny chapel in the trees.
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wild Flowers and Hedges
There's nothing better than a good book, a comfortable patio swing and a tall glass of southern sweet tea, over ice. That's, exactly, how I spent this evening in my Serenity Garden. What a cool respite from the July heat!
As I finished my book and lay it on the little green table beside the swing, I realized I hadn't put as much time into the garden as I did last year. Spring had been unusually lengthy, wet and depressing; summer seemed long in coming. I haven't made the usual dozen runs, to Walmart and Home Depot, for flowers and hanging plants and there hasn't been the endless digging, raking, pulling and cutting that went into the yard last summer. As the old saying goes, I have let "nature take it's course."
This year the garden is different; more relaxed. When I look carefully and deliberately, I see how the hand of the Supreme Artist has taken over, in my absence. Now, surrounding the rustic, ornamental heron, which stands on one leg next to the house, are the ostrich ferns that have grown twice as large as they were last year. The yellow ceramic duck, standing next to the weathered fence, is this year, encircled by wild flowers, and the hedge, enclosing one side of the garden, has formed a natural arbor over the wooden gate leading into this placid space. I feel humbled by it's breathtaking simplicity and authentic beauty.
The natural world, as I experienced it tonight, reminds me of our human-need for control, and how we sometimes, lack the trust, that could give us rest and peace-of-mind. The Creator's work is perfect, but we can't seem to "let go and let God."
Perhaps, it's best to keep in mind, Matthew 6:28-29, "Why do you worry....? See how the lilies of the field grow? They do not labor or spin. Yet, I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed as one of these."
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
As I finished my book and lay it on the little green table beside the swing, I realized I hadn't put as much time into the garden as I did last year. Spring had been unusually lengthy, wet and depressing; summer seemed long in coming. I haven't made the usual dozen runs, to Walmart and Home Depot, for flowers and hanging plants and there hasn't been the endless digging, raking, pulling and cutting that went into the yard last summer. As the old saying goes, I have let "nature take it's course."
This year the garden is different; more relaxed. When I look carefully and deliberately, I see how the hand of the Supreme Artist has taken over, in my absence. Now, surrounding the rustic, ornamental heron, which stands on one leg next to the house, are the ostrich ferns that have grown twice as large as they were last year. The yellow ceramic duck, standing next to the weathered fence, is this year, encircled by wild flowers, and the hedge, enclosing one side of the garden, has formed a natural arbor over the wooden gate leading into this placid space. I feel humbled by it's breathtaking simplicity and authentic beauty.
The natural world, as I experienced it tonight, reminds me of our human-need for control, and how we sometimes, lack the trust, that could give us rest and peace-of-mind. The Creator's work is perfect, but we can't seem to "let go and let God."
Perhaps, it's best to keep in mind, Matthew 6:28-29, "Why do you worry....? See how the lilies of the field grow? They do not labor or spin. Yet, I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed as one of these."
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara J. Kirby Davis
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Grandma's Purple Bike
Becka and I went on another one of our adventurous bike rides this evening and I feel that I'm getting stronger and more steady with every outing.
The weather was perfect for the two block ride from my house to hers. I know that a couple of blocks doesn't sound like much, but for a 64 year old grandma, that's a lot of peddling; huffing and puffing all the way!
It wasn't that long ago that I took that first excursion around the block, after many years of not being on a bicycle. They say you never forget how to ride, but believe me, it was frightening and exhausting. Still, I'm glad I got on and gave it my best try. Every ride gets easier and more fun and I look forward to many more summer evenings, riding my purple bike.
The weather was perfect for the two block ride from my house to hers. I know that a couple of blocks doesn't sound like much, but for a 64 year old grandma, that's a lot of peddling; huffing and puffing all the way!
It wasn't that long ago that I took that first excursion around the block, after many years of not being on a bicycle. They say you never forget how to ride, but believe me, it was frightening and exhausting. Still, I'm glad I got on and gave it my best try. Every ride gets easier and more fun and I look forward to many more summer evenings, riding my purple bike.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Creativity Through Silence
The air is warm and soft, as I breathe in and breathe out. It's quiet here, except for the crows, which seem to have taken over today...they squawk and fly from a nearby tree. Sometimes, I can hear them from far away and the next moment they are very close to me, overhead.
There's an occasional cooling breeze stroking the timid, dainty, red and yellow wind chime, that hangs from a dry branch of the lilac tree, next to the terrace. The gentle, exquisite puffs of wind on my skin, remind me of a friendly cat delicately nuzzling my face, but leaves as quickly as it came.
Riley, my miniature schnauzer, plays at my feet with his dingy white rubber ball--it's surface scarred from a year's worth of rolling and bouncing in the grass and dirt. He tilts his head forward, letting it drop, then watches, intently, as it rolls off in random directions. He picks it up again and the game continues. His loyal presence brings a sense of comfort and companionship.
The evening has been reflective and has given me a chance to explore creative possibilities. Insights have begun to materialize from a place deeper than the external "I". My soul has been enriched and I have come into closer contact with the Creator of all things. I am blessed, daily, as I come to this tranquil spot; taking time to be alone with the Spirit of Peace.
Creativity demands silence and solitude. Whether, it's alone in a garden, driving the car, writing at one's desk, lying in bed just before sleep--quiet time is the most important step toward the Eternal within ourselves.
"...it is in the silence of the heart that God speaks." -Mother Teresa
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara Davis
There's an occasional cooling breeze stroking the timid, dainty, red and yellow wind chime, that hangs from a dry branch of the lilac tree, next to the terrace. The gentle, exquisite puffs of wind on my skin, remind me of a friendly cat delicately nuzzling my face, but leaves as quickly as it came.
Riley, my miniature schnauzer, plays at my feet with his dingy white rubber ball--it's surface scarred from a year's worth of rolling and bouncing in the grass and dirt. He tilts his head forward, letting it drop, then watches, intently, as it rolls off in random directions. He picks it up again and the game continues. His loyal presence brings a sense of comfort and companionship.
The evening has been reflective and has given me a chance to explore creative possibilities. Insights have begun to materialize from a place deeper than the external "I". My soul has been enriched and I have come into closer contact with the Creator of all things. I am blessed, daily, as I come to this tranquil spot; taking time to be alone with the Spirit of Peace.
Creativity demands silence and solitude. Whether, it's alone in a garden, driving the car, writing at one's desk, lying in bed just before sleep--quiet time is the most important step toward the Eternal within ourselves.
"...it is in the silence of the heart that God speaks." -Mother Teresa
Copyright 2008 By-Barbara Davis
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