Afire with God

“Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God,

But only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.” E. Browning

The June garden is afire with God and ablaze with glory. If you are tired of the fallen world, sit a while in the garden. Then you will remember that the God who created this beauty holds you in the palm of His hand too.  In this quiet place remember that Eden is not lost forever but will be one day a world made new when we see His face. Each day I water and tend these plants, marveling at the imagery a garden provides. I see my newer plants that wilt in the hot sun because of shallow roots. I wonder at their growth and bloom in season. As I learn more about medicinal herbs and plants I laugh with delight to learn that God created so much in the garden for our health and healing. And I think that we, like the Israelites, have forgotten so much. Let us see His goodness around us and delight in His gentle care for tired old souls who have wandered out of Eden, but hold tight to a promise of Redemption.  Our God sees and gives us hints of it every day, if we would only be still enough to look. 

Eight is Great!

Dearest Lena,

            You are becoming a young lady before our very eyes!  What a year of growing you have had.  This year you have become a book girl and we are often calling you to dinner from other worlds and lands.  You love Pippi Longstocking and Nancy Drew currently and really enjoy history.  You've become a violinist and joined the Playing Through History Band and continue in your piano studies.  You have a special knack for french vocabulary and Shakespeare plays! You do not like math or copywriting but you are becoming a fine artist specializing in Narnian figures and flowers at the moment. One of my favorite things you did this year was begin newspaper articles for us with Emmie. The Chucklehead Papers appear at every birthday and delight us with homemade jokes and riddles.  Perhaps your favorite place to be is swinging out back or creating concoctions in the mud kitchen.  You are contemplative, tender, poetic and yet still a firecracker. It's been a difficult year and you've wrestled with hard things and asked hard questions.  I'm so proud of you for seeking truth and beauty in all you do and I pray that you will always find your answers in Jesus.  You are so dear to us, a beloved sister to Emmie and Phoebe, a cat whisperer, chicken mama and a newly minted gardener.  We love you so. 

 

A Reluctant Spring

Spring is chilly and late this year, but I marvel at the way God brings new life once again. Each day I notice new leaves appearing, unfurling like delicate lace on the long tree arms.  This green is new and vibrant, coating the world in fresh beauty. Even the weeds are delicate, reaching heavenward. We smell lilac as we walk to the library, discover the magenta blush of the dogwood and laugh at the chickens' delight at newly sprung grass.  We are reminded of the new life Christ brought when He did not remain in the grave, but rose victorious. Spring shouts this to us, even if it is a reluctant spring. 

We have entered a new cycle of learning, one of field trips and nature walks, finishing books and pursuing unit studies of interest. We are preparing for recitals and performances and planning new gardens as we wait for warmer temperatures.  Each day these little women surprise me with their imaginative life, and I rejoice to see the reappearance of book characters and historical figures in their play.  An appliance box has become a store and I hear shouts of snake discoveries out in the woods! Motherhood is always a bit of a shock. You never know what each day will bring. Two year olds are especially creative in this and Phoebe knows it well!

This year we dyed eggs with herbal tea and the girls experienced their first Passover Seder on Maundy Thursday. We took a trip to learn about the Liberty Bell and are deep in Revolutionary War history. I'm thankful to have finished our second and fourth grade years well and I rejoice that learning isn't relegated to days or logs, but is the rhythm of our pilgrim lives. The habits we nurture will bear fruit forever and we plant seeds and water little hearts, (and big ones) that Christ might do His good work there.