Last week–outside our small bathroom window–I heard quite the commotion at our lone bird feeder that is suspended by a shepherd’s crook type pole. The familiar chatter told me it was a blue jay. Sure enough, a large male was jockeying for his position at the feeder…maneuvering his body in all sorts of contorted moves that made me cringe merely watching him….at one point he had his feet firmly gripped to the pole trying not to slide down like a firefighter answering the ringing bell in a firehouse! It didn’t help that a night of hard rain had left the pole pretty wet. Endurance and fortitude paid off for our determined visitor and he was able to grab some seed in his beak before flying away. The flurry of action took less than a minute for him to accomplish enjoying a morning meal and gave me an image of my own antics seeking daily nourishment….

Psalm 34:8 says “Taste and see that the LORD is good. How happy is the person who takes refuge in Him!” (Christian Standard Bible)

My morning ritual includes rolling out of a cozy bed about 7:30 am…stretch and yawn….use the bathroom and then shuffle my way to the kitchen where hot coffee awaits me (thank you to an early riser husband)…settle into my recliner by our living room window…opened if the temperatures allow…kick back with open Bible and current devotional and begin my day, reading and writing in between sips of my coffee, which by the way, is always black with a splash of cinnamon….poured into a mug that has an inspirational verse on it or is tied to special holidays and seasons…

As I read. As I write. As I meditate, I often think of my fine feathered friends that come to our feeder every morning and throughout the day, rain or shine. These beautiful little creatures have come to rely on our willingness and ability to fill the feeder. They’re clever enough now to squawk like crazy when it’s empty, chewing us out for being negligent. I’ve witnessed little brawls on the feeding posts attached to the feeder along with some birds finding seed that has dropped to the ground. I’ve also noticed that one or two birds seem to become “watchmen” on the rail…their little heads turning to and fro….left to right…looking out for any enemy that might be lurking…namely the neighbor’s cat who visits sometimes….the chickens and ducks from next door who wander over, too. Somehow, our resident chipmunk doesn’t bother them. He’s happy to gather the seed they drop on the deck.

Snuggled safely into my recliner I am pursuing Psalm 34:8. I’m tasting and seeing the goodness of the Lord…His daily provision for our family is bountiful. Vegetable plants we placed in the dirt this past spring are growing nicely, producing slowly but surely. Income for us remains steady and sure…bills are being paid….prayers ebb and flow for friends…their family members…our own family….watchman types of prayer for my community, nation and world. Indeed, I can say that MOST of the time, I am happy in the Lord because I DO take refuge in HIM….

Like our feathered friends who are counting on us for daily seeds in that plastic cylinder…I am relying on God for my own needs..nourishment…encouragement…and renewed hope. LIke that blue jay fighting like crazy to hang on to the pole, I’m clinging tight to God’s Word and His promises…. Lord knows, in a world full of chaos, I…we…. all need what only He offers to those who have put their trust in Him. To ward off enemies that try to sneak up on us, He sends angels to defend and protect. He whispers in my ears and spirit little warnings, much like our tiny birds chirping signals to their friends–”danger, danger”. 

A blue jay clinging to a slippery pole is a good reminder for me to hold tight while pursuing what I’m in search of–peace, hope, nourishment, protection. The small choir of other birds chirping whether they are begging for food or sending out warning signals reminds me to surround myself with friends who have my back. Afterall, no one wants to be the victim of a sneak attack from a sneaky neighborhood cat….or lose their place at the feeder…which in my case, is the Word of God. 

A question is that part of my daily prayer journal is this: What’s happening in your life?

I must admit, it’s been difficult to write a different answer each day because if I’m being honest, most of my days are a lot alike. I get up at the same time each morning, usually about 7:30. After grabbing my first mug of coffee I make my way to the living room and settle into my recliner and get my Bible, journal and pen, cozying up with my devotion which is on an application downloaded to my phone. After finishing my devotional and writing out my prayers, any light chores that need to be done begin. On Mondays I work as a volunteer in my church office for about three hours. Then it’s back home until 3:30 when a small group of us do strength training together.

Tuesdays are dedicated to preparing for our weekly Celebrate Recovery meeting and writing my blog if I’m not bogged down with a “to do” list. 

Wednesday through the weekend are pretty much wide open to do laundry, perform light cleaning, get in two more workout sessions and go on errands when necessary.

I often worry that my life is mundane, boring, same-o same-o until I take a few minutes to reflect on the goodness I am surrounded with every day. 

Another portion in my journal is “Thank you for…..” Ah, a gratitude column. This is one that can also seem trite, however, when I remember that every good gift comes from “above”–my heavenly Father–I’m able to thank him for night’s rest…some people don’t have a safe, warm or cool, bed to sleep…my mind has wandered to displaced families in Ukraine…

I can thank God for daily provision. Hot coffee, electricity to prepare meals and right now, cool our home in the temperatures that July and August give us here in Michigan…finances to pay our utilities and other obligations….water to quench my thirst and wash away grime and sweat…wash our clothes–oh, my, sometimes I ponder just how many clothes we have…there’s people in countries who don’t have a closet full of shirts…dresses…pants…bare feet carrying heavy buckets of water for preparing meals and washing what clothes they DO have in the bank of a river.

At the top of my gratitude list is my gratefulness that our four grandchildren are being taught about God. They are learning to pray. Four year old Jacks says “thank you for our blessin’s” (our son says it’s as though he is suddenly from the south….7 year old Macklynn addresses God as “Father Jesus” and proceeds to ask that He give her family and friends as “amazing day”. Three year old Coby mutters prayers in his own toddler language and always applauds with his “yay” which is his current amen…we haven’t heard two year old Mylah’s prayers yet, but we know they are inside her and she’s a willing participant at meals and bedtime. 

So, it happens to be Wednesday morning. Monday and Tuesday are behind me, with a lot that has been accomplished and more “to do”. Laundry is in the dryer. Remnants of dirty dishes and cookware from food preparation on Tuesday are washed. A yummy variety of vegetables have been roasted to enjoy for a couple of lunches this week. Our bed is made and clean towels hung in the bathrooms.

So, what’s happening in my life? Lots of good things that don’t have to be elaborate trips to exotic places or going to a job that could be a drudge. No, I’m right where I desire to be, in our home, enjoying the fruit of working a lot of years for someone else, now employing my gifts and talents for Kingdom work…for the benefit of our home and family….reading, cleaning–ALL the “mom jobs” and waiting for  “blessins”’ big and small, for EVERY good gift is from Above.

As I scroll social media….as I listen to the daily news…I’ve arrived at this conclusion: We all need some “heart & brain medication. What do I mean by that?

I love how the Aramaic Bible in Plain English states this command from Jesus:

“’And you shall love THE LORD JEHOVAH your God with your whole heart and with your entire soul and with your entire mind and with all your power.’ This is the first commandment”

So, how does “heart and brain medication” factor into today’s thoughts? Recently, our 3 ½ year old grandson was shopping with his dad and walked by a display of medications. He told his dad “We need heart brain medication daddy”. Our son looked at the packages and made an immediate correction. “Bubba”, he responded. “That’s heartburn medicine; I’m pretty sure we don’t need that”. Later in the week our son sent me a text message describing the situation that made me laugh and make note of at the same time, in a contemplative kind of manner…noting to myself our grandson’s observation is a great lesson for me and maybe you. 

My current Bible app devotion is taking me through a daily question: Choosing Each Day, God or Self? Seems pretty accurate that our culture is living in a state of “it’s all about me”, wrapping ourselves in selfies to post on social media…making arguments in print for what WE deem is good and right….some folks attending protests waving banners and homemade signs to proclaim our stance on social justice topics…taking up arguments and debates–that from where I’m sitting–only exhaust inner strength and peace. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and place to defend what is good and right. But here’s the rub. Consider Isaiah 5:20.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, and put light for darkness and darkness for light, and put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!

Here’s a second rub. WHO gets to define what is evil?  And defining what is good? I know how I would do so, but I’m fully aware when I do so I’m not in absolute agreement from everyone who would read my definitions. Because a variety of opinions and mindsets exist in our culture, I truly believe we are living in days where we all need a good dose of “Heart and Brain Medicine”…one produced by a willingness to read scripture and have God teach and speak His truth to us, rather than relying on our own thoughts and desires or what is popular in our current culture. 

In Celebrate Recovery–a program I have participated in for six years now, our first principle says “Realize I’m not God; I admit that I am powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable.” (drawn from Matthew 5:3a)

And our last principle states “Yield myself to God to be used to bring this Good News to others, both by my example and my words”. (source Matthew 5:10)

Realize. Yield. Two pretty good words for action and self evaluation. Plus, basically, I think our grandson was on to something when he said “we need heart brain medication daddy”….”Father, God, I….my friends and family….my community and the world all need a good dose of Heart and Brain medicine….Amen.”

His name is David. He’s the one who took a couple of two to become a family of three. Born July 18, 1946–in the midst of World War II–he joined the ranks of many baby boomers that would earn that title for several more years. He’s the one who immediately became the apple of his parents’ eyes and tested their parenting abilities for four years until Mark joined the family in 1950. A baby sister came along in November of 1953…he is my oldest brother. 

Much like our dad and numerous relatives, Dave had a twinkle in his eyes most of the time. Sometimes the twinkle meant he was ready to enjoy a favorite sporting event on TV or tell a cute story–sometimes from a personal experience that sounded like a stand up comedian reciting his routine. Dave had the ability to tell a story and add his own spin which made us laugh til our sides hurt. I have many fond memories of him…here are a few from my highlight reel…

• As a four year old Dave traveled by train with mom from Michigan to San Diego to visit dad who was stationed there for a while in the Navy. It was Dave who shared a chicken meal with mom in order to be frugal, and also receive extra attention…some extra food too I believe…from a conductor who was willing to engage with a little guy.
• It was David who scared mom out of her mind when he didn’t come home from kindergarten one day. The police were called. Streets were scoured. The “search party” returned to the house only to find Dave sitting on the front porch beaming from ear to ear…”Guess what, mom? I found another way home”.  She wasn’t amused, not even as the police officer whispered to her as he walked back to his car “don’t be too hard on him”. I guess Dave was proving he was creative in his own way, using his thinking skills that developed deeper over his lifetime.

• In high school years he told mom that fish was brain food, so for the solid four hours he was a freshman to a senior, she packed him two tuna sandwiches for his lunch. Every. Single. Day. Dave was an above average student so maybe the countless cans of tuna did contribute to his success?
• In junior high Dave was among the students required to take a music class where vocals were taught, performances in choir required. Unfortunately Dave did not possess a talent for being on pitch. In her mercy towards Dave she told him “you mouth the words in choir and I’ll give you an A for participation”.
• It was Dave who tried to teach me at age 9 or so how to play euchre. I can still see him face palming his hand to his forehead when I’d ask “what do I do when I have these two guys”…the Jacks….his desire to play a simple card game was one of exasperation when mom and dad weren’t around to be his opponent.
• It was Dave who learned how to make mom’s ice cream recipe from scratch on his own or slowly scorched a favorite pan used for popping corn.
• It was Dave who went to community college and needed a physical education credit, so he took up bowling. And a love affair with the game was launched. From those early classes he not only wanted to bowl, he watched the family TV set on Saturdays to watch bowling competitions. He played on several leagues for a number of years….he took me to a “pro” when I was 24 so I could get my own bowling ball drilled specifically for my left hand (we were both left handed)
• Often, while at his college classes, he’d get out mid afternoon and make the impulsive drive to visit Grandpa and Grandma Jewell in Otter Lake. In the 60s there were no cell phones so mom—wondering where he was when he hadn’t come home when expected–wasn’t surprised when the phone rang, hearing grandma’s soft sweet voice say “Ida, David’s here. We’ll feed him dinner and he’ll be home tomorrow”. Dave wanted grandma to himself for conversations about the Lord, a topic they both shared with great faith. I think he also wanted to see if he could beat her to the rocking chair that was “her spot” to relax after chores were finished.
• It was Dave who was very willing to hold newborn babies as our family expanded over years. Marrying at 19 and becoming a father a year later certainly prepared him for numerous nephews and nieces from both sides of his family.
• Dave could read a book and retain its information like Fort Knox keeps gold secure. In his 60s he enrolled in classes to become a Deacon in his church denomination. I was thrilled to attend his “graduation” ceremony.

We shared many good memories growing up as kids on Arthur Street. I was 13 when he married…14 when his oldest daughter was born. Both of those events caused me to think how “cool” I had become. I had a married brother and now I was an aunt. As we both continued to grow and mature, slowly life for both of us got in the way of our once very close relationship. My family left the area in 1989 so birthdays and holidays became our main source of social interaction…with phone conversations thrown into the mix.

As an adult, Dave experienced some hardships…there were days I know that deep sadness overshadowed the twinkle in his eyes. Admittedly, we had several disagreements that put a strain on our relationship but we always managed to recenter ourselves and not allow differences to take deep root.

In 2018, Dave became very ill. It took several weeks for his doctors to determine the cause of physical limitations. Learning from my niece that her dad had a rare brain tumor was devastating, but after a visit with Dave in the hospital, it was pure joy to see him laugh–with that twinkle–that an answer had been found and he had hope for a favorable outcome after surgery was scheduled. Unfortunately, surgery could not eradicate the growth that had invaded the brain fed by four years of tuna sandwiches and devouring books on Christian theology. Final weeks or days remaining for Dave were his calendar now as he left the hospital and took up residence in a rehab facility. Times of complete coherence eroded quickly, joined by Dave’s need for morphine to keep him comfortable. I was able to visit him on a beautiful Saturday in the fall. Although he couldn’t hold a conversation with me for very long, our connection remained, and before I left for home our hands held tight as we both whispered “I love you”. Those were his last words spoken to me before I got the call that he was “gone”.

I titled my blog intentionally as His name IS David, not was. Dave had 72 years on this side of Heaven. That’s his “was”. On October 24, 2018 he entered Heaven and IS living for eternity. He’s no longer in pain. He’s not bowling. He’s not playing cards. He may not even be reading a book. No, he’s worshiping the Lord, the Lamb, the Redeemer, the One whose book of scriptures Dave read with great curiosity for truth and assurance…the Lord he and grandma had many discussions about as he rocked in her chair…the One who holds the Book of Life with Dave’s name written in it because he put his faith in Christ at an early age. He IS my oldest brother. I love him. I miss him. I will see him again and we will worship together.

His name is Mark. I met him in 1953 although I don’t recall ANY details about that first meeting. He was three years old and had a head start in life which included an older brother who was 7 that year.

Mark was the one with a vivid imagination compared to his siblings. Still has it and uses it today…adding in lighthearted teasing along the way when his days are now filled with drawing, chopping wood, building furniture, camping, spending time with his girls.

As a boy, he was the one whose bicycle lay in the driveway…parts strewn everywhere…because he wanted to “see” how it worked…maybe improve its performance.

He was the one often scolded for using his dad’s tools and not returning them to their rightful place. Because he was curious and talented in problem solving, it was he who came up with creative gimmicks to keep his grandparents’ chickens in their coop when his family stayed for a week to house sit and care for the hens.

In his early teens he fell in love with hockey, purchased his first pair of skates and hockey stick…spending countless hours at the ice rink two blocks away from his home. His sister was the one who walked those two blocks in the cold to beckon him to dinner. Occasionally, his chair at the table was empty while his family ate, waiting for his return after “one more lap around the ice and I’ll be home….” He once told his mother “I’d rather skate than eat.” And skating he did, from hitting the ice in his teen years and eventually walking away from a senior league when he was approaching his 60s.

Mark was the peacemaker in his family. Still is, actually. Tension and confrontation aren’t his favorite conversations…he has and does continue to bring gentle wisdom into hard situations. I think it’s a quality he inherited from his father.

I didn’t always like Mark. We clashed until the year he turned 19 and I was 16. Attitudes and hearts began to soften then, especially when he went off to college. Not long after those years that eventually ushered us both into our 20s and 30s…with him now 72 and me 68…well, life has certainly mellowed, ebbed and flowed with experiences that have brought us to tears, continuously closing the gap that disdain had formed in those early years of our relationship.

At 72, Mark continues to draw, honing his skills with the likes of YouTube. He serves in his church and as a Gideon, visiting small churches in mid Michigan and passing out copies of the New Testament on college campuses. His gentle mannerisms and twinkle in his brown eyes allow him to enter conversations that may not happen otherwise. He’s devoted to God and to his family. He loves to reminisce about years and experiences from his career as a professor of welding. He could see potential in his students that others often overlooked. He’s bold when it comes to defending the truth of scripture as well as tenderhearted with tear filled eyes when praying over a family meal. He will most likely see humor in some of life’s most challenging moments or possess insight that is expressed in loving encouragement, such as standing at the coffin of his beloved grandmother, his hand resting on his grandpa’s shoulder, leaning over her body, staring into her face and whispering…”Look at this way, gramp, she’s only beat you there….” Heaven. A place he knew she longed to go and spoke of often when cancer invaded her body. 

His name is Mark and he is my brother. And I not only “Like” him now. I love and adore him. And as I remind him every year on my birthday when he calls to tell me “you’re getting older”….”yup, but I’m still younger than you.”

Maybe it’s age. Perhaps it’s new headlines every day spouting the ills of our world and culture around me. Maybe it’s the times they are a-changin…🎶

Today I woke up feeling in a bit of a funk. Never mind the sky is cloudy with rain–much needed rain–looming above…or that my first major task of the day was a dental cleaning which means “what surprises wait for me with that visit!”…it’s happened before with a routine appointment…”Oh, you need….$$$…(which DID happen today, but that’s not where I’m headed)

I woke up thinking, really thinking about how much has changed in my tiny world of existence from the 50s to present days in the 2000s which seemed like lightyears away and off in a twilight zone when I was a mere child in those 50s that had no color TV…no central air conditioning…no cellphones or cable networks…no Internet…one car in the driveway that was shared by two parents…

Many of my summer vacation days were spent playing outside. We rode bikes. Went to the park that was two blocks away. Swam in someone’s pool. Played with dolls…colored endless pages…cut out paper dolls under the shade of a tree…we even played made up games of “Army”, “Cops & Robbers” and heaven forbid in today’s culture “Cowboys & Indians”. The phrase politically correct was not in our vocabulary….we had toy guns, maybe a play set of a bow with arrows…sticks often served as spears or guns when one wasn’t in our toybox. Rules for play were always established and mostly followed. Someone was always in charge of planning how we’d play…and play we did. For hours. In the hot sun. We’d hide behind trees and shrubs…make forts of whatever we could scavenge from our parents garages. Imaginations were the primary source of play, taking the place of today’s many modern devices that seem to keep a lot of kids “inside” their comfy homes that now have all or most of  today’s modern conveniences, um, those things mentioned above that were non existent in my childhood. A cold drink of water from a garden hose  or a glass of  Kool-Aid was our main “go-to” for quenching thirsty bodies covered in sweat and sunburned skin.

Now, when I venture out for a walk through our neighborhood I rarely see children outside playing. Very few are on bikes for rides up and down the street. Backyards have swing sets or trampolines in them, but are usually empty. Pools are in some yards, but I rarely hear screams of delight even from those. I’ve often wondered exactly when kids go swimming in these beautiful pools sitting under the hot sun. Maybe it’s when both parents or another adult are home from work. And I’m amazed how many of our neighbors have not only TWO cars, but sometimes three and maybe a boat or RV parked in the driveway, too.

Our neighborhood has many large trees that offer beautiful cool shade. I use them to rest for brief periods of time when on my walks. I’ve never had to share a shady spot with any of the kids who live in the sub. I’ve never encountered a group of girls coloring or cutting out paper dolls while enjoying a cool breeze under a maple or pine tree…are paper dolls even a “thing” anymore? 

 Perhaps a fondest memory is the many conversations I had with my childhood friends as we sat on the lawn under the shade of a tree. We talked about how God created everything, from the blades of grass to the “stuff” that was used to build the Chevys and Fords our parents drove. There were no arguments that He didn’t exist…wasn’t real….that He could DO anything…our childlike faith was simplistic and united among those of us who were Lutheran, Baptist, and Catholic or Methodist…even the kids who didn’t attend church had caught on to believing in God. Maybe it was the summer vacation bible school programs that all the moms carted us off to for a few mornings to fill hot summer days and give them a break from all us kids….

So, today, my thoughts have wandered back to the 50s, slowly bringing a smile to my face, reminding me of more innocent times compared to our current culture. I’m also daydreaming about what the next 20 to 25 years will bring for me, for my own children and grandchildren. While they currently enjoy the benefits of our modern day age, I sure hope bikes, shade trees, and imaginary games are part of their summer time days…along with a good, long drink from a garden hose or the hospitality of a neighborhood mom who made a pitcher of Kool Aid….

I’ve Been Foiled

A close examination of my garden containers–my attempt to be a savvy gardener this year–has revealed that I’ve been foiled…someone invaded a couple of my beautifully sown planters…where there should be garlic sprouting, there are sunflowers. Where onions should be poking through wonderful black dirt, there are sunflowers. Although I LOVE the beauty of sunflowers, I did not plan to include them in this year’s gardening session as I purchased a cucumber plant….dreamed of fresh garlic and green onions…instead I will have a crop of sunflowers, IF I move them from my deep pots to an area they can continue to grow and flourish. 

Though a mystery surrounds HOW sunflowers got inside two pots, truth be told, I’m pretty sure who the culprit is that created his own lil crop to harvest in 2022….one morning while brushing my teeth…gazing out the window to watch the birds at our feeder….I saw him. Yup, a chipmunk was sitting in the container with my ONION seeds nestled under the dirt…he was digging with a lot of energy…messing with my seeds and dirt…after he left I smoothed over the dirt, filled in the holes he had dug and thought nothing further. Until I saw a clump of beautiful crowded green growth standing about two to three inches tall one morning…catching my eye as I watered plants. (The photo above is NOT one I took, but an example I found online)

Strangest onions I ever saw I thought to myself. I thought onion seedlings were tall and skinny as they grew stronger, taking on more shape. These plants were pretty plump and crowded like too many people in an elevator. Quick thinking about using my “plant identifier app” on my phone confirmed my suspicions. “You don’t have onions but you have a lovely array of sunflower sprouts”….hmmm…they look like something that’s growing in the container where I placed garlic sets.   Frowning upon THAT confirmation, I briefly grieved over the loss of future meals with fresh garlic that seems to be nowhere in sight.

It’s not only sunflower plants that I’ve found in obscure places around the yard where we plant vegetables and flowers. The raised bed is yielding voluntary plants of dill, cilantro, and sage. In the hot bed a kale plant is leafed out like crazy and is providing shade for a red lettuce plant–I may have planted that seed? I even found lemon balm in a pot that previously had flowers adorning it last year. Squeezed in between three tomato plants is another voluntary vegetable….a tomato that reseeded from last year. I’ll let it grow, coax it along and see what it yields at harvest time.

Sadly, the clematis we put in the ground at a trellis is nowhere to be seen. Instead, numerous morning glory seeds keep germinating, and though I enjoy their beauty, I don’t need over 20 of those. I wanted my clematis. Guess it’s wait till 2023 and try again.

What life lesson can I learn from this experience? While pursuing a life that is intentional…planting seeds of love, joy, and hope in my spirit…with the objective to be a good friend, a loving family member, an authentic Christ follower…I can get foiled. That crafty serpent we refer to as Satan is sneaky. He’s like my little chipmunk who comes along and undoes my good intentions….he digs up my good seed, steals it and replaces it with something I don’t want or need if I’m not paying attention. He knows if I don’t tend to the distraction, “it” will grow….the substitution of giving me a bad or unexpected result is now something to be reckoned with….

My unexpected sunflower plants can be salvaged. I can move them to a more fertile area, giving them depth and space to grow to maturity. Or, I can toss them in the garbage. I think I’ll save a few. After all, the birds benefit from their huge seeded heads at the end of summer and cooler days in the Fall. Even pesky lil chipmunks need food, too.

As for those things that Satan tries to foil me with? They are of no use to me. They don’t deserve space to grow, multiply and provide a harvest of sin’s nastiness that is the only bounty he can produce. I have only one choice when I recognize his crafty methods–pull his lies up by the root and toss them in the garbage…allow God to remove the ugly unnecessary things the enemy has tried to plant into my mind and spirit.

Sunflowers need sun and water, even the ones that were helped along by a sneaky little critter. My life needs sun and water, too, and if I’m not careful, Satan’s sneakiness could go unnoticed if I don’t tend to my heart, soul, and mind every day. Where there should be the fruit of the spirit growing in me, I don’t want to find voluntary weeds that went unnoticed from last year….last month….or yesterday.

This is not an actual photo taken by me, but one that I pulled from an online search. 

Lessons From Being Parched

The blustery winds and chilling temperatures from winter are long behind us, now that June has been ushered in by the furnace fan providing us cool air on days that are currently sporting waves of heat in the 80s….slowly teasing us onward to scorching 90s….warm days many of us longed for when we were knee deep shoveling snow covered driveways and sidewalks. We’ve exchanged snow boots for flip flops and winter clothing for shorts….swimwear for pools, lakes…water time fun in all forms! Maybe a water balloon fight or running through a lawn sprinkler…

In late May I planted flowers, vegetable plants and seeds. Everything seems to be doing well with the exception of some of the seeds. Those little buggers are stubborn, no matter how I water and “coax” them with encouragement to poke their way through the beautiful dirt that I laid them in ever so carefully. By no means am I an expert gardener. Truth be told, I’m more of a casual/lazy kind of person who puts plants and seeds in the ground, expecting great results with little effort. I’d kind of like my seedlings to act like their relatives that thrive in desert dirt…very little rain and more sunshine than the states of Florida, Georgia, Arizona…you get the picture….combined. Could they NOT have a bit more ambition to push through the soil and show me they are trying!?

When we were in Arizona recently, I was amazed at the variety of cactus plants growing in all types of dry, rocky, arid terrain. They sure looked healthy! Some of them were budding…getting ready to pop open flowers…others were very green…standing strong and tall, or creating intricate low ground shrubbery. Together, they paint a wonderful example of growing and remaining strong against elements that surely would leave me parched…tired…overheated…in need of a TALL drink of water.

Today, I decided at 11 am to go for a walk through our neighborhood. I checked the temperature (83) and had a quick wave of “why didn’t I go sooner” float through my mind. Oh well, I told myself. I can do this. Yes, it’s hot, but you’ve walked in the heat before. Wear comfortable clothing. Get on your good shoes. Take a water bottle with you. Those self coaching phrases carried me as I made my way around the paved road that gives me just over a mile walk. 

Thankful that I brought my water with me, I enjoyed stopping several times in shaded spots to sip on my cool relief….the neighborhood was quiet except for one couple working in their yard….no kids outside playing or riding bikes….workers present laying fiber for new internet services in our community…every one of them looked pretty warm under the sun…one guy was under an umbrella on the equipment he was using to dig a trench (smart, I thought to myself)…each one of the guys smiled and said “hello” as I passed by. One young man said “good morning, it’s a warm one! But I’m not complaining!” (could he have been remembering how much snow we all shoveled last winter?)

Unlike cactus plants that thrive day in and day out under scorching temperatures, I know I would not…could not survive extended periods of life living in desert like conditions. I need rain. I need cool breezes. I need cloudy days. I need shade. I need water. I need someone looking after my daily needs. My “someone” is the good Lord, Who has earned the title Creator of ALL in my book of faith…I can look and marvell at His handiwork in a HUGE desert and pull much joy from the beautiful views and contrast of dry dirt to lush covered mountains…cracks in hard ground…tiny crevices shared by flowers that have made their way from earth’s darkness to life giving light.

Such was…such is…my life. By God’s grace He planted a seed in my soul years ago…a seed that has grown and matured through seasons of life that have been filled with great joy, grief, disappointments, sadness, losses…yet, years that produced harvests from His faithfulness and tender care, all serving as reminders and examples of a life lived pushing through…seeking…allowing wind, rain, sunshine and changing of seasons to grow me up against ALL odds…even when I’ve taken the casual/lazy approach to life….I think I’ll go check on my tiny seeds…see what they need, coax them a little bit more.

As an extension to last week’s entry on my blog, where I wrote about meeting folks who truly served well in their respective “jobs”, I thought I’d share a couple things I experienced in the opposite direction of decent human behavior. I need to begin by telling you (briefly) about our canceled flight which we rescheduled in order to stay on track for our vacation commitments.

Our flight was scheduled to depart Detroit at 6:12 pm Saturday, May 28. We made our arrival through check in and security as recommended, made our way to the gate and began our wait…taking seats in a crowded terminal…slowly making eye contact with other passengers…smiling, me deciding who I’d begin to chat it up with because, hey, that’s who I am. I’m one to never waste quiet if I can find a good conversation! Anyway, fast forward and soon it was announced our flight was “delayed” to repair a mechanical issue. Minutes began to turn into hours with more discouraging announcements…Lady Orange Shirt didn’t waste time walking up to the counter numerous times to ask when the plane was leaving…..on one such occasion she walked in front of a growing line of people to butt in with her questions….when an announcement was finally offered about helping us make alternate arrangements she was the FIRST to jump up and work on her problem…even after getting another flight, now waiting for THAT departure, she kept making her complaints known to others seated around her…

For us, we held out and accepted a hotel voucher for the night and returned by 7:30 Sunday morning to get on a 10:15 flight (same plane)…well, before our hopes could soar on wings with assured hope, Natalie, the counter agent, announced that even though the plane was being serviced on since 4:30 am, she could not guarantee a timely departure. Enter Lady Purple Shirt & Husband. They arrived at the counter, her demanding to know when the plane would leave, husband looking down at the floor. She didn’t like Natalie’s answer. Tears began to flow, cries of anger declaring “it’s been 14 hours…this is no way to treat people….” Husband calmed her down, and as they worked out their travel…she blew up in a tizzy again when she found out first class seats weren’t available. She walked away in a huff while husband remained to settle their travel. She went to get a Starbucks coffee. (I saw her later with a cup in her hand) He took time to thank Natalie for her help and kindness. A kind husband making up for a frustrated wife I guess.

We boarded a flight headed to Charlotte NC, which was short– 1 ½ hours–sitting in front of a couple who quickly ordered shots of vodka for their breakfast juice when the steward came by with beverages and snacks. Short flights don’t offer much in the way of entertainment unless you’re a people watcher like me…approaching time to descend the steward came by picking up trash. Meet loud mouth vodka drinking woman.

“May I take your trash?”

“I’m not done with my drink yet.”

He kept on with each row and then the second sweep for trash came.

“May I take your trash?”

“I’m not done with my drink yet.”

“Ma’am, we are getting ready to land. Either chug your drink or give it to me.”

“I paid $36 for this vodka. I’m not throwing it away.” (She didn’t chug it either)

“Fine, I’m done! I will be calling the airport police and they will deal with you. When we land, stay in your seats.” Complete silence.

Whew–those of us sitting close enough to make eye contact surely did, rolling our eyes and silently giggling behind smiles and thoughts of “wonder what’s gonna happen next…”

We landed. We all stayed seated as the pilot came on the speaker “Ladies & gentlemen, please remain seated. We’ve had an incident on board and the airport police will be coming to take care of it.” 

We all watched as Lady Vodka Drinker and her traveling companion were escorted from the plane. They were suddenly very quiet. I wondered then and still today, if the $36 and ensuing arguments were worth their side trip overseen by airport police?

Years ago, my husband and I coined the phrase “How hard is it to be nice?” We’ve used it  with each other on numerous occasions…me thanking him for cleaning up a pile of dirty dishes….him thanking me for doing a job he knows I dislike…It’s the phrase that inspired me for my blog, “The Art of Nyce”.

I GET that Lady Orange Shirt and Lady Purple Shirt were tired, frustrated, anxious. Yet, in all of those draining emotions, is a choice to be devoured by what’s out of one’s control, and yield to being “nice….

I GET that vodka shots sold by airlines are pricey. Yet, in the course of a traveler’s day, being compliant and nice sure can head off embarrassing and unnecessary detours.

I GET that problems will sometimes arise when I think I’ve got my day planned out, as in our case getting out of Michigan to Arizona. I also GET that I’m not in control…took me years to learn THAT lesson, but it’s one that is now giving me the greatest peace in my life when things go ary. It’s also showing me how other people react and unlike vodka shots, the show is free!

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters”

We have just returned from spending a week in the beautiful state of Arizona! And I must say, a week isn’t nearly ample time to truly experience the awe and beauty this south western state has to offer to the traveler’s eyes. Getting to the Grand Canyon in person has been on my bucket list for years…. Merely seeing photos of this world wonder has not satisfied my longing to stand on one of the rims and soak in the majesty with every blink of an eye. I’ve got some of my own photos now, most of which are calendar worthy I might add and will allow me countless hours revisiting creation’s truly magical scenery. I’d return in a heartbeat…what I’d like to share with you though are some thoughts about some of the people we met along our week’s journey from Michigan to Arizona.

• We departed from Detroit Metro on Sunday, May 29. This was AFTER our Saturday flight was canceled due to mechanical failure of our plane. When our air carrier finally made the hard decision to keep us grounded, we were put up in a local hotel. That’s where I met our hotel shuttle driver (sorry I didn’t get her name) She was bubbly, kind, and super friendly. During our brief ride she talked about her dream to become an over the road truck driver so she could earn good money…see the nation….buy a home. Her enthusiasm for her work inspired me regarding a generation 40 years younger than myself.
• Sunday morning I met Natalie. She was the counter agent for our flight who was honest enough to tell us “this plane isn’t leaving anytime soon….” (repair issues were still of top concern) I listened and observed as passenger after passenger approached her to complain, argue and cry about their situation and NEED to leave Detroit. Natalie never wavered in her patience. She was kind. She was honest. Above all, she was helpful to reroute many travelers that morning, including us, all with a calm smile on her experienced face of 17 years working for the airlines.
• One of our excursions included a rail tour through the Verde Valley south of Sedona. To enhance the experience, the company employed a personal bartender and a “tour guide” for each passenger car. Our young lady working the bar did so with great fun and laughter, taking time to point out areas of historical significance….Larry, the actual tour guide on board for us did the same. He was a retired guy, full of energy and a love for explaining rock formations and historical background on abandoned mining camps and ranches deep inside the rocky cliffs and mountains. I found myself listening to both of them with eager ears, asking myself if they ever got bored with each rail tour loaded with first time visitors who would ask questions they’ve heard countless times in their years on the job.
• Tracey was our jeep tour driver for our visit to the southern rim of the Canyon. She told us she moved from the midwest to give up a vet tech position to live in Arizona and train to become a tour guide for the Canyon. The amount of lilt in her voice as she described the national forest and its inhabitants….deer, elk, big cats, birds, etc. was enough to keep a balloon afloat. With every repeated fact she never seemed to appear bored or anxious to end her shift with each turn in the road…each pass of locating elk…describing the history of the park and the people who made this area accessible for the millions who have come to see the canyon’s endless beauty. 
• Not to leave out someone who may appear as a “lesser than” much needed employee was the hostess at our hotel who greeted us Wednesday morning when we came for breakfast. Hands gesturing and eyes bright with life we were welcomed to the breakfast spot as though we were royalty. This woman looked aged, experience was evident, but her zeal and hospitality sure overshadowed any doubt that her job was mundane.
• Oscar was our curbside agent when we departed Phoenix to return home. He worked quickly, attention to detail and the long line of “ready to get home travelers” didn’t phase him one bit. Bags were checked, double checked, boarding passes issued and directions to our gate were given with kindness, a big smile and a huge “thank you” when I told him he “was a good man”.

We met many employees in a variety of settings during our vacation week. Airport. Restaurants. Shuttles. Hotel. Resort. Site Attractions. I must say, each one displayed the definition of the verse I inserted at the top of today’s blog. There’s only one guy that comes to mind as one who didn’t seem very thrilled to be working. He was our shuttle driver from the airport to our car parked in a  long term lot. He didn’t hop out of his seat to help us load four bags of luggage. He was pretty tight lipped during the short drive to our car. He remained seated and didn’t offer to help unload those four bags. I mentioned my observations to my husband who responded “that’s why he got two bucks and not five for a tip…”    I think he needs to read Colossians…not sure the others I’ve described have, but the zeal in their respective work positions sure give a hint of knowing HOW to approach the day-to-day tasks in their work day.