What is seen is temporary...

I awoke to this: orange light in my eyes. I rose and went to the window, and my heart quickened. It was one of those mornings when I rush to find my camera and throw on something to keep me warm, run down the hallway to the back door, and out into the sunrise glow of a thousand unnamed colors. And I begin recording, as fast as I can all the ways the light makes a miracle of the world around me -- quickly, quickly before it vanishes. Because it will, because it changes as rapidly as the earth spins and the clouds move, and in a matter of moments it will turn gray, and those who missed it will only wake to the dull colors of the overcast sky. But today I have had my eyes filled to overflowing with color, and I will carry it with me through the doings of my day, remembering how life is beautiful, but fleeting. And I am grateful....

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
- 2 Cor.4:18
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, FIXING our eyes on JESUS, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
~ Hebrews 12:1-3

Winter's grace

Winter's brown-ness and bare-ness is often not seen as beautiful like spring or fall's vibrant colors.  But closer inspection usually yields quiet surprises of beauty.  The elegant profiles of deciduous trees are revealed after losing their cloaks of leaves. And the texture of the bark, the gnarliness or gracefulness of branch growth, the abandoned bird nests, and the late fall cocoons with metamorphosing caterpillars wating for the warmth of spring to burst forth as butterflies or moths, clinging fruit or seed that feed the birds in the cold months.  What beauty is added to it when a colorful bird perches there, or snow sticks to the branches making them look magical especially in the moonlight, or rain drops cling in rows, looking like a string of diamonds glistening on a gloomy day.
These are moments that stop me in my tracks and tell me to give thanks for such beauty emanating from earth's dormancy - a vision of Eden in a raindrop - and a promise of what is to come, for every seed that falls to the ground dead in winter holds the promise of new life in spring.
Promise, new life, rebirth, renewal -- all is held within the barrenness of winter, showing us that God has not abandonded us but is quietly at work in us to bring this all about for us, for the Kingdom, for His glory.
Quiet grace.

I want to be surprised

Sometimes it's as if God literally places books in my hands and says, "here, I want you to read this -- I think you're ready for it now."  I came across a book on Amazon about a week ago that caught my attention because of the cover -- it was beautiful.  I wasn't looking for it, or anything like it -- it just suddenly was there in front of me, drawing me in closer to see what the subtitle said... "A dare to live fully, right where you are."  Wow.  Did that ever strike a chord in this rusty heart of mine.
I bought three copies.  One for me and two to give away, and I hadn't even read more than the synopsis.
I just knew that God had put it in my hands, and that I was supposed to share it with others.
Now that I've had it for a few days and have actually read part of it, I know for certain why He put it in my hands.  It's about gratitude --- gratitude for the everyday, small, quickly-passing moments in our lives that are gifts from God -- as every breath we take is.
The moments of beauty that we pass quickly by, and maybe they capture a second look from us, but without stopping and giving thanks for it, we miss out on the opportunity for praise and for joy.
And these are the moments that help to make sense of the hard things, because they give us a glimpse of what life will be when Eden is restored, when sin and pain and grief exist no more.
Beauty is a gift from God, and being deliberately thankful for it whenever we see it, will bring joy that will surprise us.

I want to be surprised by joy.

The secret life of beauty

The banner for my blog features a couple of photos that I took this summer when my hydrangeas were blooming in all their glory.  The blue of this particular kind is akin to periwinkle, and quite vibrant.  On the weekend of the 4th of July I cut a few stems and brought them in to brighten my kitchen.  As I was arranging them in the vase, suddenly out crawled a ladybug from the middle of one of the blossoms, and soon after another followed.  The brilliant red of those dear little creatures against the vibrant blue of the blossom just took my breath away, and it was, I must say, one of the most delightful, serendipitous moments of my life.  In that moment was a glimpse of glory -- once hidden and suddenly revealed.  If I had not taken the time to bring those blossoms into my home I never would have seen that secret beauty, hiding in the middle of all that blue.
So here I make my first entry into this space where I want to record more of the beauty I discover each day, the glory of the common place.