On Monday this week, I thought about a story a friend had told about his mother and a bird. “What bird is making all that racquet,”she asked. “A Mourning Dove,” my friend replied. afternoon!” But it’s afternoon,”his mom said.
That led me to thinking about how many are”mourning” over the state of our world. The pandemic has caused so many deaths to be mourned. The killing of black people and others in protests and for no reasons at all are causing more mourning. Not just in the black community but among all caring people. What is wrong with people? Why have we still not learned–as we were taught in kindergarten–to be kind, take turns, share and listen more than talk?
On top of all that the country is besieged by hurricanes and floods and fires that cause people to lose their homes and businesses.
Like all mourning, it takes time to process and reach a new type of normal. If you think about it, we should learn from the past but not try to return to it. We have to pray, talk to each other and step out to a morning that is brighter and not one steeped and steaming with “mourning.”
I thought about this as I looked at my photograph of the view this morning. No fog today, but fall is peaking around the corner of late summer and waving a “see me” flag.
My mother always said that the fall made her sad because of what was coming. She meant the long stretch of cold and snow and less sunlight for several months. I understand her remarks more now. This summer has been one for the record books. More lovely, sunshiny and hot day–and most people could not travel for a refreshing seashore or mountain breeze. Then there is the sadness of all those lost from COVID-19, and the horror at more black lives lost.
You could say also that the bright yellow branches are the result of our recent drought. Either way it sent my brain to autumn thoughts and a slight sadness that I feel at this time of year. For another summer over soon–and gone. For the fading and drying flowers near my building. For knowing there is little time left for “summer projects.”
But, cooler air will be refreshing and many feel invigorated by the crispness of fall mornings. May it be so and may we embrace the good and the blessings in any season.
This is also Six Word Saturday so I felt this was appropriate.
Champion the right to be yourself; dare to be different and to set your own pattern, live your own life, follow your own star.
tags: summer, fall, Be different, Writing and rhyming and devotions, Oh My, COVID-19 Summer, thoughts on life.
I have to write more than six words today, although I thought a lot about that heading
before I wrote it. I recently moved within my building to a different apartment simply to gain a small balcony and a sliding door to the outside world. I had missed being able to be outside, even for a few minutes without going to the elevator and down to the lower level. At this time in my life, it was good to downsize, pare away peels and layers of “stuff.” It was good to have done that during this weird time of pandemic–because of how a world event such as this forces you to realize–nothing is more important than love and the people in your life.
Neighbors have stepped up to aid neighbors and many have rethought how they live due to being home more with extra reflecting time.
When I feel uncertain of what activity to pursue next, or I contemplate the seriousness of our world, that is when I need that view of nature. Looking out at the hills I always remember the scripture I’ve heard so often: “I lift my eyes to the hills–where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2 NIV.
A few minutes looking at the trees, the peaceful farms across the ridge, and birds rearranging themselves in the trees below never fails to calm my spirit and life my mood.
Well, here I am on Thursday again. I wrote a couple of blogs earlier this week, but didn’t send as I was dissatisfied with them. I know, we talked about that and making decisions. I’ve had a sore, swollen ankle for a few days and have no sure diagnosis on that yet either. Xray showed nothing broken and blood clot ruled out. It still hurts when I walk. I have an appt. coming up with my orthopedic doctor. What is my point?
This morning, as I used the pool in my building to soak my ankle, my thoughts turned to thankfulness. I am healthy for 78 and when some small medical problem comes along, it causes me to feel empathy for the many, many people who battle health problems every day. I pray for several who have ongoing problems and are in captivity more than most people because of the pandemic.
Please stop the political liaisons and pray for a solution for the world for COVID-19 and take it and science seriously.
There is no more miserable human being than one in whom nothing is habitual but indecision.
On Wednesday, already at the center of the week, I was paralyzed with indecision. Nothing earth-shaking, but simple every day choices to make. Should I continue to ice my swollen sore ankle and hope it got better, or was it time to call a doctor? Should I try to get some walking in and push through the discomfort? Should I venture out to shop for a couple of items at a time when I am still a little uncomfortable, despite the care most store are exercising for our safety?
I read my devotional materials for the day and answered a call. It was a friend with whom I’ve been reading the same prayer throughout the last month. As we caught up for a few minutes, I found myself laughing as she described a picture her daughter had sent of her pug, complete with life vest, swimming in a lake.
An ordinary moment, that changed my attitude about the day. “Make a decision and step out,” someone in my past had said. That’s what I did with a good result.
Today, Thursday, I woke up with a song on my mind. It was “What a wonderful world,” in Louis Armstrong’s voice. I gave thanks for all that I’ve experienced and been blessed with in my life.
Notice that in the foreground, I spotted a stop sign –a reminder to look up and find the light.
First printed source of the Nursery Rhyme was in 1838 in A. e. Bray’s Traditions of Devonshire (Volume II, pp. 287-288)
Although it was first printed in 1838, the tradition of fortune telling by days of birth is much older. Thomas Nashe recalled stories told to young children in Suffolk in the 1570s, known as fortune-telling rhymes.
What does it mean to be full of grace? Googling it reports that a child of Tuesday will be gracious, agreeable, refined, and polite in manner of behavior. (From The Free Dictionary) idioms.
That sounds wonderful. Could we all try it for today, being it’s Tuesday?