Several years ago I had the opportunity to meet an aunt and cousin. They were actually my husband’s, but they still were “mine”. Through a series of events and searching by my aunt, she located our name. Through some unfortunate circumstances we had never met, much less knew of each other’s existence. Continue reading The Photo Album→
I painted my nails for the first time in several months.
As I looked at my hands, wrinkles and all, I was reminded of my maternal grandmother, Grandma Fannie.
She always had the most lovely nails. When I was a little girl, I use to spend the night with her. We would watch Lawerence Welk while eating popcorn, then paint our nails. She spent several years in a nursing home, and when I arrived she did not remember me, but she knew I could paint her fingernails. And that is what we always did.
These hands remind me of the love my grandmother had for me, and the love I have for my granddaughter.
These hands remind me of the first time I held Norah.
These hands remind of life…the good, the bad and the ugly.
These hands have wrinkles and show I have lived.
These hands have been enveloped in the love of my husband’s hands and cradled my sons.
These hands have clapped at games and been thrown up in exasperation!
These hands have been cold, warm, and tense.
These hands have been burned, and hurt.
These hands have been raised in prayer and praise…to the one who loves me most.
The Father seems to speak to my heart often through His creation. It has especially loud over the last several months. This was no exception.
We visited a lovely zinnia field at a local orchard the other day. The field was awash with colors beyond imagination. As the flowers softly danced in the gentle breeze, some lovely little creatures visited them.
Hummingbirds, bumblebees and a plethora of butterflies flitted back and forth from flower to flower with not a care in the world. Little did they know that there was craziness in our world. Their goal was simply to gather nectar and enjoy their flights!
I tried to capture several pictures and as my husband and I walked along the paths; we noticed something at the end of the field that we could not see from the very beginning. It was another field. Brown and barren mostly.
We watched a butterfly make its way out of the abundance of flowers and head toward the what appeared to be an empty field. We followed it.
And then we saw them……
Amongst all the brown and dusty soil there appeared many zinnias. There was not a field of them, but a dotting of sorts, like a polka dotted tablecloth set for a picnic.
And the butterfly knew the field had value.
The fields were right next to one another. It reminded me of the pandemic.
Scarred, barren, left alone, confused, misunderstood….
The flowers were separated from their kin, lonely and looked as though they had no job.
They were thriving. They had value. Their life was important. They were cheerful. They were still focused on their purpose.
I was reminded of the scripture where Jesus shared about the birds and the lillies of the field.