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LET’S PLAY BALL

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“Let’s play ball!”

There was no announcer several weeks ago when softball season launched for our oldest granddaughter who has embraced this wonderful summertime sport and favorite pastime for many of us. Instead, opening games began in early June which has changed our weekly schedule as we attend her games. Announcer or not, games played are under their belts with more remaining through the month of July.

Watching our 11 and 10 year olds who make up our granddaughter’s team has been an opportunity to reflect on my childhood at that age. Our granddaughter began playing baseball at age 5 when batters hit the ball off a “T”. I played ball for one season at the age of 14. She’s completely outfitted with an official uniform, name on her jersey, owns 1-2 bats (aluminum mind you) and a glove that cost more than my monthly cell phone bill. When I played, I borrowed my older brother’s mitt (we were both left-handed) , used a bat that the coach brought (all wood) and our uniform consisted of a team T-shirt with our team name and number on the back.

I’m not discounting or undermining the advancement in team sports for girls or boys by any means. In addition to the changes in equipment, I’m glad to see that all players are required to wear a helmet complete with face protection. In addition to our team T shirt, we wore shorts, and athletic shoes compared to today’s special shoes. Macklynn’s main position is that at home plate as the catcher so her protective gear covers her from head to toe. Her current catcher’s mitt will be one that she can use through high school.

As grandparents, we’ve attended all of her games, whether traveling to another community or home games in Bath. Another observation–one that is very pleasing–is the good sportsmanship we’ve witnessed from rival teams and their own cheering sections of parents, grandparents, and friends. Loud clapping for good plays is common. Encouragement from parents or the coach can be heard, too. We’ve even experienced opposing spectators clap for a good play made on the field. This is a true and pleasant example of good sportsmanship, acknowledging when a player performs well, regardless if it’s “your” team or not.

We were in Springport a couple of weeks ago for a double header game and their parents hosted a meal between games to feed the girls as well as family and friends. I grabbed a plate of food and walked past a circle of girls sitting on the ground, our players mixed in with their competitors. They were laughing and enjoying being together as hot dogs, fruit, and desserts filled hungry bellies,  bodies being refueled after playing the first game. In those moments together, competitive strategies were set aside in favor of being silly little girls.

Good behavior from players and onlookers. Positive words from coaches and parents. No putdowns. No bad language. All this reminds me of a verse from Hebrews that I like. “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together,, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another….”

Sure, the writer of Hebrews is addressing believers, but I really think these words can be applied to how we–and our kids–treat others. They admonish us as adults how to model behavior that is laced with integrity, kindness, and healthy competition versus being rude, crude, or obnoxious. When the former attributes abound in our young parents and players, I have hope for seeing communities grow and prosper under positive leadership and guidance possessed by all of them.

Yes, softball season is here. It’s been exciting thus far hearing the cracks of bats connecting with a fast pitch, runners advancing to bases with home plate in mind, dirt swirling in the air when someone makes a slide into a base, loud cheers when a fly ball is caught, groans when the ball is dropped. It’s great fun to watch our young athletes use their talents for hitting and catching, all working together to be victorious. And when the game ends, it’s reassuring to see fist bumps between both teams, “good game, good game” echoing from each one as they get ready to leave the field, meet up with mom and dad, dust off dirty leggings, pack up all the gear and head home. Plus, with a game behind them, another one is on the schedule. In the meantime, after game treats and giggles will suffice to fill summertime fun with family and friends, until it’s time for the umpire to yell “Let’s play ball!”

SAWDUST MEMORIES

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Ah, the arrival of hot sticky summer days and evenings is one of those changes in Michigan seasons that awaken more memories from my childhood. Dad arrived home from work promptly at 5:15 pm and the five of us sat down to supper no later than 5:30. There was no central air conditioning in the house, mom moved a floor fan from room to room to help cool her daily tasks. On extremely hot days we often ate our evening meal in the breezeway which afforded some relief from heat. After eating, most nights you’d find my dad out in the garage working on some “project”. That was his workspace for power tools and more importantly, an escape from any stresses that built up during his work day as the chief building inspector for the City of Saginaw.

With the garage door open, table saw or other smaller power tool humming along, his quiet constant whistle accompanied whatever buzzing sound came from his variety of woodworking tools. The openness of the garage allowed him to see any of numerous kids riding by on bikes, others out for a walk around the block, neighbors mowing lawns. Sometimes one of the youngsters would pop in to say hello to him, ask some silly questions and bounce along, returning to their bike or walk. On one particular evening dad’s work was interrupted by a pair of young men out canvassing for their church. The question they posed to my dad was “do you think God has ‘anything’ to do with what’s going on in the world?”

Dad was quick on his feet, always. Whether a person needed some spontaneous wit or a word of encouragement, he was your man. Therefore, there was no long hesitation to give these guys an answer. “Anything?”, dad repeated. “Well, He has “everything” to do with our world.”  I remember their awkward long pause. Apparently their cheat card didn’t tell them how to respond to such a simple statement.

Maybe you’ve pondered the same query that “anything” and “everything” pose to us regarding God’s role in the world. This conversation my dad had took place in the 60s and by then I was finishing my junior high school years, old enough to see for myself all the changes taking place in our nation such as:

  • 1964 Civil Rights Act Passed
  • 1964 Beatles Arrive on the Scene
  • 1968 Martin Luther King Assassinated
  • 1969 Moon Landing & Woodstock Festival make headlines
  • Viet Nam War Rages

From my own viewpoint, every daily headline in the Saginaw News was of great significance. Indeed, the 60s brought about a lot of change, yet nothing then or now came as a surprise to God. Not once has He ever wrung His hands and whispered “well, I didn’t see that coming”. 

Paul writes in Colossians 1: 16 “For in Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Who is Paul writing about here? That person is Jesus Christ.

Whether we are contemplating nature, other countries, kings and presidents, other people groups, Jesus is part of it all. Those things we see and cannot see, He’s in it. Those rulers and presidents you dislike? He’s over them, too. And though circumstances might look very chaotic? He’s actually holding them together. I take great comfort in that fact as I have given too much energy scratching my head or wringing my hands with deep worry regarding current events in our country.

I need to remember the soft comforting sound of my dad’s whistle as he putzed in the garage. Working with his hands gave him an outlet to express his artistic side while relieving stress. Anytime I smell clean sawdust, I can see him cutting boards, sweeping the garage floor before closing the door and retiring for the evening. By the 60s, dad had lived and served through World War II and later the Korean Conflict. His government had sent him around the world facing some horrible times before peace came and he returned home safely. It’d be years before he shared some of his experiences that could have ended his life.

Yes, a pleasant soft whistle. Hot summer evenings. Open air flowing through the garage. An occasional visitor to interrupt his time, always welcomed with a warm smile and kind truthful answers to life’s serious questions. Because life can be hard, but with God in it all, everything is good and running according to plan

YES, I’M WAITING FOR SNOW

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This past week I was faced with a gentle tease from nature–a forecast of snow–possibly accumulation of three inches. I got excited. I began fixing my eyes upward as I gazed at gray clouds covering overhead skies. As temperatures stayed steady, a few wet drops hit the windshield of the car as we drove home from getting haircuts. In the course of the next few hours I accepted disappointment that any hopes for any significant snow fall were not part of my Tuesday this past week. 

I live among family and friends who have created a great divide regarding snow. I have loved ones who grumble about snow because of its impact on driving conditions. I have grandchildren who are excited to don snowpants and boots to play outside in its freshness, hoping to build snowmen, maybe even help parents clear driveway and sidewalks. I have friends who can’t mention snow in the same sentence using the word happy. I get it. I understand both sides. Yet, in my determination to keep the peace, admittedly I’m taking up my annual position waiting for snow and reveling in how the beauty of it makes me feel inside and out! Like football fans who banter who’s the better team–MSU or U of M–I am unapologetic regarding my love for snow!

Sitting here in mid November feels like a tease. Halloween is behind us and our next expected holiday is Thanksgiving. Fall decor which includes pumpkins, ghosts, witches, corn stalks, etc. usher in a few Thanksgiving decorations–cornucopias, wreaths fashioned from fall leaves, figurines of pilgrims on tables still laden with pumpkins. And, to my surprise, some homes are already decorating with Christmas lights and other holiday decor. Personally, I have always thought putting up Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving didn’t give this day of gratitude proper observance, but then, I’m only in charge of my own choices, not my neighbors or anyone else for that matter. As a matter of fact, I’ve had conversations with a few people who took advantage of our unusually warm weather a few weeks ago to hang Christmas lights. Doing that chore under sunshine’s warmth certainly makes that job go easier and faster. You get no argument from me for making that decision!

Other teases I’m experiencing–telling me that Christmas is approaching–are increased ads on programs we’re watching. The number of fragrance ads are up. It’s fun to watch and listen to how each new fragrance is described. Because it’s impossible to actually “smell” what’s in the beautifully  fashioned bottle, we are teased with a very handsome man or gorgeous woman trying to convince us against backdrops of music and cleverly designed scenery the advantage for purchasing a new heavenly scent, guaranteed to enhance one’s romantic life!

Then, there’s some of our major stores that have begun incorporating Christmas shopping into their ads, too. There’s the familiar Target logo popping up now. And WalMart’s logo, too. Soon Macy’s will join the ongoing ad streams that interrupt favorite programming. Radio stations will most certainly begin playing Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. Afterall, all the Black Friday shoppers need help getting in the mood, right? As if an avid shopper needs any outward stimulus other than a “good deal” to hit open stores at 5 am….a practice I have nor ever intend to participate in as I’m not drawn to that sort of chaos. Again, each to his own.

I like gentle teasing, knowing when temperatures drop and more gray filled skies fill the calendar versus sunshine and puffy clouds against blue hues take over November. I’m that person who loved winter as a child, now as an adult who still embraces the beauty of snow, knowing I can dress according to temperatures if wandering outside, or cozying up inside our home with a mug of hot tea or chocolate. There’s something warm and endearing about being under a comfortable lap cover, hands wrapped around a hot mug. For me, one of winter’s happy places is merely that–a cozy chair, warm blanket, a hot beverage–and in my case, I guarantee that mug will have a snowman on it. My favorite place in our home is by the large window in our living room where I can watch snow fall, when those days of merely teasing me actually turn into action and accumulation.

So, mugs are ready. Cupboards are stocked with a variety of beverages. My chair and blanket are always ready. The gentle teasing of the first snow can come anytime now, only make it the real deal please. I’m ready! I’m also ready to be sympathetic to those who are less excited for snow. I can’t change how you feel about the splendor and beauty of each snowflake, but I’ll gladly share a mug of hot chocolate or coffee with you in my warm home as we discuss pros and cons.  

As I wait for my first snow day, I’d like to bid you to enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving, one that is surrounded by loved ones under a warm blanket of love, laughter, and above all–gratitude for every good gift given to us from a generous God who provides and protects!

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations”. (Jeremiah 1:5)

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“For He chose us in Him before the world to be holy and blameless in His sight.” (Ephesians 1:4)

Two very profound statements about a person’s importance in God’s eyes are contained in these two verses. There’s plenty of others in both the Old and New Testaments that describe how God views and cherishes us as well as giving us purpose and value that stand out from things that perish. In my current study time which is camped out in 1 Peter I’m learning that because of my relationship with Christ I have an inheritance that “can never perish, spoil or fade.” Furthermore, my salvation cannot be destroyed; it was purchased (redeemed!) by the imperishable Christ’s blood shed on a cross. Talk about a WOW factor!

Today, my typical day to sit and write is Wednesday. It also happens to be my 72nd birthday. I honestly have a hard time assigning a larger number to my life with each passing birthday because even with a few aches and pains, reduction in complete flexibility of limbs at times my mind still thinks like a young adult. Celebrating another year of life–which is a true gift–also allows me to reflect back on my life. Many memories flood back, mostly very wonderful, others bittersweet.

Born as the last of three children to my parents, coming home to two older brothers, I rounded out the family they had dreamed of creating in the aftermath of World War II and the Korean Conflict which saw dad serving in the U.S. Navy. After living in their first house, land was purchased where dad built the family home I grew up in and upon completion in 1954 I took my first steps as a toddler.

My entry into our world was a whirlwind. I still smile as I remember hearing how mom told dad “it’s time…” and he didn’t fully believe her. His hesitancy to drive her to Saginaw General Hospital resulted in my arrival 13 minutes after getting there. It’s a screenplay my mom didn’t enjoy watching or experiencing over and over again but she wasn’t mean spirited about my birth event, merely sharing the reality she endured of a hard fast delivery!

My birthday–though very much a joyful event–was also bathed in sadness. I dmy arrival with the departure of an older cousin who lost her battle to polio. This is a disease myself and many other parents have not had to fear because of wonderful medical breakthroughs which gave us a vaccine. Thankfully, my uncle and aunt, who lost their oldest daughter, embraced me with incredible love and their home became a favorite place to spend summer days playing with my other two cousins who came along after their sister’s death.

My life also causes me to reflect on my origins. When the 23and Me DNA testing came along as a way to discover one’s ancestral roots, I sent for the kit. I’ve always been curious about who I am and where I came from. Well, my DNA revealed no great surprises. I’m mostly Northern European with a little bit of Irish and French sprinkled in. The research showed my origin back to the Balkans as far as the 1600s. From there my long gone ancestors’ journeys will forever remain a mystery until hearing how mom’s parents came to America in the early 1900s, their past lives shrouded in many unknowns, too. Dad’s folks have been traced back to the 1700s with names written in the Jewell Family Bible. Woven in the mysteries of their lives is one important thread–the brilliant color of Christian faith which began “somewhere” and was adopted with each subsequent generation on both sides of my family.

The world has changed immensely since November 5, 1953 to the one of 2025 as I sit here. I admit what I see and hear coming from news outlets doesn’t give me much hope in mankind–but God! Our world is broken. It has been since Adam and Eve ate forbidden fruit. But, God in His mercy, had a plan in place before He laid the foundations of the earth! We read in 1 Peter 1: 24 which quotes the prophet Isaiah: “All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever”.

One day I will join my loved ones in heaven who have gone before me. But, for now, I will celebrate being 72 and living life covered in great love and affection from my Creator, Who knew me before He created all that we know and call our “world”. I’ll try to wrap my mind around the mystical and imperishable ways of God…smiling about how I “arrived” here while rejoicing about “where I’m headed” as I continue living wrapped in God’s abundant promises!

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!”

TRAIN, TEACH, ENCOURAGE

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“Train up a child in the way he should go (teaching him to seek God’s wisdom and will for his abilities and talents), Even when he is old he will not depart from it. (Proverbs 22: 6)

This verse has often been used as encouragement within the walls of our churches to our parents struggling with prodigal children. The encourager’s intentions are not wrong, however, a deeper understanding what’s being said is as parents, when we get to know our children, how they’re wired, gifted, their talents, we can better direct them towards activities and proper academics to hone in on their particular “bent”–how they learn, what excites them and what brings utter lack of enthusiasm. 

Often, I draw on my father’s family for numerous life experiences that are the backdrop for examples or topics for my weekly writing. This week is no different. As I look back on each of my uncles and aunts lives, including my dad’s, I can truly note where their childhood experiences and talents took them in life.

My Aunt Joy was the second oldest. As she grew old enough to help grandma, quite often she helped care for the younger ones. Helping in the kitchen and chores with grandma were normal. It’s no wonder that as added income for her own family, she cared for several elderly women who actually lived with Joy in their large home. This was a “side gig” she did even after Uncle Ed had passed away. Joy was loving, compassionate, kind, and very patient dealing with aging minds and weary bodies.

Lyle was 17, working in one of the farm fields, when a small plane flew overhead. This disruption in his duties distracted him long enough to pause, looking up as he shielded his eyes to watch this “marvelous machine” pass over the family farm. “One day I’m going to fly, too”, he said. And fly he did. Lyle served in the Air Force as a pilot, retiring as a Colonel. 

Grandpa had a pile of what we’d call common “junk” nowadays. Worn out wood, metal scraps, odd and ends from farm materials, and discarded wheels in a variety of sizes were piled next to the barn. If the boys wanted a sled, well they made one. In summer months they longed for a wagon, so one of them figured out how to fashion one from the pile. Nothing went to waste in the depression years. Access to materials–old or fairly new–was the drafting table for all kinds of things to enhance childhood years. I don’t know the quality of the things the boys made but I do know that all of them had a love and great ability to build anything from a wagon, pair of snow skis, to furniture and homes.

My four aunts inherited grandma’s sewing abilities. Lots of clothing, and later on, numerous quilts were constructed by careful hands and an eye for design. Reading was a favorite pastime as there was no TV or radio in the home. My Aunt Esther was the only girl to graduate college and taught elementary age children until retiring. She had a passion to learn which overlapped with a deep desire to teach.

So, with the start of another school year, it’s my hope that our young parents–our guardians, our grandparents, will embrace how God has created our “littles” as unique individuals. Not every child will excel on an athletic field. Reading may be boring to some while others will tuck themselves into a corner to bury their nose in a books pages. Drawing and creating works of art from raw materials will soothe and fill the child whose creative mind is chomping to test and explore the beauty of color. Create a stack of small musical instruments and watch who will wander over and pick one up to test what kind of sound it makes. 

 The worst thing I think we as parents can do is forcing our child to do and be what goes against their natural inclinations. A great book I read years ago is “Eight Great Smarts: Develop & Nurture Your Child’s Intelligences” (available on Amazon) Each chapter is a short read and helps identify each way a child has been created to learn. And, each chapter will give you guidance on how to develop the hidden stuff in your child!

My Aunt Esther, the avid reader of the girls, preferred books over household chores. Pulling her away from a book to help in the kitchen was a disruption to where exciting novels and non-fiction materials could take her young mind. She was also bold and not afraid to climb trees. She even climbed a water tower in one of the small towns the family lived in for a stretch of time. She had a keen ability to memorize children’s storybooks and often acted them out with silly props for her young students. Her favorites were any of the Dr. Suess storybooks. 

It’s a new school year, from kindergarten to college courses and even trade schools or military enlistments! No matter the age, no matter the path of education, let’s all work together to train, guide and encourage our children along their unique avenues of learning. And let us not forget our wonderful teachers, these men and women who are challenged with 20 plus kids every day, who learn differently. Some will be daydreamers. Others will stay on task. Some will be anxious to get outside to run, jump, play, and climb. There will be those who are content to sit on the sidelines and merely watch, while contemplating what’s next in their day. All of their differences combined which cause minds and bodies to be going in numerous directions are not bad, merely different. Different is not bad. May we embrace “different” and properly fuel busy little people and our young adults, too.

Blessings on a new school year! I’m thankful for teachers who encouraged me to read, helped me get through math that made no sense…brought out my love for vocal music…honed my skills that lead to a passion for writing…my dad who drove me to the library week after week for a new stack of books. Now, I still have stacks of books in different rooms of our home, waiting to be picked up to be devoured, filling my mind with new information! Guess I better buckle down and join all the students who have returned to classrooms!

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”…..