Tag Archives: travel

TIME DOES FLY

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Happy New Year! 

In my younger years I often heard my “elders” declare  with each passing year that common phrase “my, how time flies”. I honestly didn’t give much attention to that thought, until now. I “get it”. Passage of time since our own children entered adulthood seems to have caught me up in this  perceived acceleration of time. Maybe I can credit this due to a lightened schedule–no full time work requiring me to report to five days a week, parenting of small children behind me now, less bills to pay.

Sitting here on a very cold day I can’t help but reflect on the past year. It truly seems like yesterday when I drove north in the month of April to enjoy a four day sabbatical. Except for a few times when my husband was away for a weekend, I hadn’t been truly “alone” since my mid 20s when I lived in an apartment with no roommate. Last April, warmer days teased  us with opportunities to be outdoors, heavy coats no longer necessary, promises of sunshine on our faces overpowering the previous weeks of cloudy wintry weeks.

The opportunity to be alone for four days taught me a lot. I learned that I am fully capable of taking care of myself. Awkward at first, with no one to talk to, I grew comfortable in silence.  I let the natural rhythm of sunrises and sunsets dictate my schedule, not relying on a clock. With the exception of using my phone for assisting me with scripture reading or watching a movie, there was no noise in my northern habitat  from TV or radio. What a wonderful break from outside interference!

On two occasions I stepped out of my comfort zone–no pun intended–and ventured on two hikes on trails near where I was staying. I’ve been on hiking trails before, with friends, but this time in April I was alone. My only company was April’s cool breezes, wind in the trees, and the sound of crunching leaves under my feet, accompanied by my increased breathing as I pushed my body to new limits navigating each trail. Though I was apprehensive at first, being alone in the woods, any fear I initially embraced soon waned, making room for excitement and exhilaration at achieving a bucket list goal–go on a hike without anyone else tagging along. 

As much as I thought I was alone though, in reality I was not. The entire purpose for getting away for a few days was to allow me time to dive deeper into scripture, spend uninterrupted stretches of time listening and talking to God. Each morning gave me well over an hour–even two–accomplishing this desire, yet I found that during  both hikes in the woods God continued to speak, be present, and reveal Himself to me, reminding me that I am truly “never alone”.  What a gift, what a promise!

As 2026 has arrived, it is hard for me to comprehend that soon it will be a year since my sabbatical. Thankfully, the memories I created from my four days are journaled in a book set aside for just that time. Hopefully, I’ll be able to create a few days in this new year to embrace another stretch of time alone, get out pen, paper, Bible, and notebook to dig a little deeper into scripture that is alive by the power of the Holy Spirit, who still teaches and speaks new things from generation to generation.

Yes, I will agree that “time flies” as one gets older. And, I’m okay with that because God “is the same, yesterday, and tomorrow.”  (Paraphrase from Hebrew 13:8) He’s the One who exists outside time as we humans know it; He’s the One Who will sometimes speak in a still quiet voice whether we find ourselves on a winding hiking trail or sitting under a cozy blanket as the sun rises, giving us the promise of a new day with “new mercies every morning” (Lamentations 3: 22-23).

I’m ready for what 2026 holds. I’m excited to look back next year and see where God showed up, how He spoke, what He taught–not only for me–but everyone I love, and for our community!

A WAGON’S JOURNEY TO GREAT PURPOSE

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Recently, I wrote about my dad’s childhood memory from the farm, where my grandpa didn’t throw anything away. In the 30s old and broken things weren’t tossed out, burned or trashed. No, the pile next to the barn was most likely an original “recycling” concept born out of necessity and never wasting anything “if” it could become part of something “new”. Dad and his brothers were allowed to glean what they needed to build sleds, skis, and wagons.

Today I’m smiling as I can still hear my dad’s voice describing to those fond memories from his childhood, crafting and building outside toys to enhance an otherwise poverty stricken life during the depression years. Now, as I look back on that experience of his, I can see how God used dad’s woodworking abilities during his more mature years to still craft and create wagons–only now he could well afford to use new materials–complete with well skilled talent honed from trial and error, along with good tools.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose”. 

This verse is used often to describe how the hardships of believers intertwine with God’s plan to bring good out of something bad. I’m one who certainly has adopted this explanation when seeking to understand complexities of life’s circumstances. Such was the case when years ago my mother underwent major surgery for cancer, which at that time necessitated a radical mastectomy.  On the day of her surgery I accompanied dad to the hospital. Lunchtime happened to roll around while she was still in recovery so we got on the elevator to go to the cafeteria. Conversation was limited. Quietness and concern filled the air as we rode down three floor levels. Our “car” stopped, the doors opened to allow other folks to join us. We had stopped at the pediatrics floor, where a young child was being transported in a very large bed, rails and pillows that seemed to overwhelm his small body.

We got to our lunch table. Dad broke our silence by saying “I can’t get that little guy in that big bed out of my head. Doesn’t seem very fun or comforting to be carted around in such a thing”. He had an idea. “Hey,” he said to me in almost the form of a question. “Let’s go back to that floor. I want to talk to a nurse”.

Now, with a sense of renewed purpose and hope, dad did speak to a nurse. He asked if he could donate a hand built wagon to be used to move the kids around the floor. “Absolutely!” 

We got back on the elevator to return to mom’s floor. The atmosphere between us had changed. Purpose, hope and generosity for others had replaced any heaviness our hearts had carried before lunchtime. Dad’s demeanor had changed. Quietly, he said to me, “I suppose it was no coincidence we stopped at the ped’s floor, for me to see how I could help kids have a little bit better time while in the hospital”.

“No”, I responded. “Dad, God knew those kids would love a wagon. And He knew who He could trust to provide one”.

You see, I don’t know how many “rough” wagons dad may have assembled in his young years on the family farm. I do know that in the 90’s when our son was a youngster, dad designed a wagon, actually got a patent for his design which is called “The Dan Wagon”, built one for our Daniel, and used those plans to assemble one for Covenant Hospital.

I don’t know if the hospital’s wagon is still being used or not. Our own “Dan Wagon” is worn looking from numerous trips down our driveway’s slight slope, just enough of an angle to delight its rider. I know that childhood attempts to make a useful toy from junkpile bounty later transformed into beautiful new creations using pristine materials.

And isn’t that what God does with us when we come to Him for salvation?  “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5: 17)  No matter the size of junk in our lives, or the depth of our sinful habits, true repentance creates something “new”, meaningful, and with great purpose!

Just like a small wood wagon with bright shiny tires and side rails to protect its occupant. All that is needed is that “SOMEONE” who has the ability to see a pile of junk and think to HIMSELF ….”Hmmm, wonder what I can fashion out of this and make it into something grand!”

DON’T LET SIZE FOOL YOU

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I am a self admitting proscranitor along with inconsistency regarding exercise goals. My determination ebbs and flows like ocean tides that instinctively sync with our moon. I’d be ecstatic if my desire to walk outside was tied to a natural phenomena in God’s creation, but hope and wish all I want, the fact remains that I am in charge of my choices regarding exercise.

Before sitting down to write this week I laced up my reliable shoes and got outside on the paved road that loops in a “U” shape through a neighborhood that was built up with homes in recent years. Their road makes a very nice safe place to walk, even run, without danger of speeding cars. As much as I enjoy what my neighborhood offers in safety, I found that I’m not the only one benefiting from the road’s mostly smooth surface between well groomed lawns. Catching my eye as I strolled along were numerous small anthills between the road’s edge and multiple lawns. 

I knew we had gotten rain throughout the night as the ground was still wet under humid conditions. Collected dirt and lawn clippings swept along the road like a river were now flat and damp, displaying an appearance of a dried up river bed. Their bronzy hues made a perfect setting for the anthills that are standing small though erect with no apparant damage to carefully laid granules of dirt to create small pyramid shaped homes. I was curious about how these little creatures build the entrances to their tunnel homes. This is what I found: Ants are a superorganism. They have division of labor, use collective problem solving techniques. The nest is one of architecture with a variety of materials, use of soil mechanics, has built in defenses and includes drainage systems. The mound we see on surfaces is the entrance. Underground lies intricate tunnel systems.

In summary, the strength of an anthill lies not just in its physical structure but also in the collective power, sophisticated organization, and adaptable nature of the ant colony within it. (Source AI overview)

I’ve always thought watching ants at work is a fascinating pastime, especially when I was a kid sitting under a shade tree in our front yard. All these years later, now, in adulthood they still intrigue me. Naturally, I know that ants are even mentioned in scripture where in Proverbs 6: 6-9 we humans are admonished to “Go the ant, O lazy one; observe her ways and be wise, which, having no chief, overseer or ruler, she prepares her food in the summer and brings in her provisions (of food for the winter) in the harvest.” (Amplified Version

Ouch! To be thought of as lazy compared to a tiny ant. To be instructed that these little guys accomplish a lot of hard work without need of a supervisor! Lots of lessons to be learned, a lot of humble pie to eat comparing human nature to that of a small insect. How like God, though, to use anything in His creation in an attempt to impart wisdom to mankind.

In addition to my fascination with ants, I must also confess that I’m not overly happy when they make their way into our home. In past years, we’ve had our share of intruders, always in the same spot along a kitchen window over our sink. By using homemade remedies and careful re-caulking around obvious entry points I was thrilled we didn’t have our annual visitors scurrying across dirty dishes or on the floor in search of a crumb. As useful as ants are to our ecosystem, I have always drawn the line at them sharing living space with us. As long as they stay outside, I will not bother them. I make every attempt not to flatten the entrance mounds to their underground homes. I don’t wash them away with a garden hose or spray strong insecticides in the lushness of our lawn.

I’ll continue to be delighted by ants–as long as they stay put in their natural habitats –and remain humbled that God considers them to “be exceedingly wise”. (Proverbs 30: 24) Certainly you and I can learn a lot from these problem solving hard workers. If it wasn’t so, I dare say God would not have mentioned them in His written Word.

WALKS & MUD PIES

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These slightly warmer days in the month of February which serve as ushering in windy March are what I refer to as “inbetweener days”. February has a reputation of giving us a range of temperatures…all the way from frigid to ones that tip  moderate warmth helped along by more sunshine as compared to wintry cloudy days threatening heavy snowfall. As snow begins to melt, creating puddles in drives and dirt roads, snowbanks become dotted with large splotches of mud. The sound of squish-squish is now a familiar sound under my feet as I walk down our driveway to the mailbox or along the road on the shoulder when avoiding traffic.

This past week’s warmer temps allowed me to get outside a bit more compared to January’s extreme cold. Feeling the sun on my face has been wonderful. Going for walks without bundling under several layers has been liberating! Now that I can avoid icy conditions, though, I find it necessary to watch my step on the mud. This gooey mess concocted from water and dirt can be dangerous to a misplaced footstep, resulting in slip sliding away when least expected.

Such was my experience this week. Thankfully, I did not slide to the point of a fall, however, I found myself being very careful testing the “muddies” so-to-speak whenever I moved off the pavement of our road. On one of my walks, I intentionally did not listen to a podcast, music, or an audible book. Instead, I wanted the luxury of being “mindful” of my surroundings. What would I see? Hear? Smell? My senses did not fail me.

As I strolled along I enjoyed bright sunshine on my face and cool air filling my lungs. In tall trees I heard birds singing. The breezes smelled fresh and clean, even though my eyes caught winter’s end with melting snow, dead underbrush exposed above once deep snowbanks, muddy blotches on remaining piles of snow. Though not pristine by any means, I comprehended that there is a “season for everything”, complete with the rough edges of waning winter giving way to  promises of lush springtime growth coming in a mere few weeks. 

All that I took in with my eyes reminded me of our relationship with God. By nature we are all sinners, covered with sin’s dirt, marred by its effects. Yet, when He comes into our lives, those things are removed by His salvation and grace, leaving us white as snow.  “Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson,  they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)

And if it isn’t enough to have sins washed with such purity, Jesus is also a healer. In the book of John we can read about a time that Jesus healed a blind man by mixing His saliva with dirt, creating a mud pie in His hands which he applied to the man’s eyes. I’m not sure why He chose this method to deliver a healing, but it shows us how He can use ordinary elements of the earth to grant a miracle. Afterall, if God created Adam from the dust of the earth, why can’t Jesus use a mixture of dirt to restore sight? When common meets divine I’m in awe.

Yes, my ordinary walks outside are opportunities for me to observe the world around me. I can look up and see planes streaming across blue skies. I am able to notice roadside areas covered with mud, stones, and dead plants waiting to wake up to spring’s alarm. I can marvel at numerous deer trails winding through wooded areas, their tracks molded in mud next to pavement, leaving behind evidence of their presence in our neighborhood.

My mind, on another walk outside, has had the opportunity to meet with divine, to enjoy present day temps while anticipating the promise of spring in a few weeks. When spring arrives, my eyes will have new things to behold. I’ll be able to smell different aromas in the air. And, most likely I won’t be walking in mud. Unless it rains! Maybe, just maybe, I should have fun making “mud pies”…..