133. No Time to…

So what happens when one finally gets settled into a routine at the cottage where one has spent three years preparing to live?

Life.

Yes. Life.

Yes. Life. Happens.

There’s a new job.

There’s a volunteer commitment one made before the new job happened.

There’s cooking to do, gardens to plant, flowers to grow, pillow covers to make, Bible to study, VBS to get ready for, neighbors to visit, friends to talk to, firewood to haul, and, yes, there are still boxes to unpack, files to organize and a room to paint. As well as the bathroom to gut and redo, and the back porch to finish.

And suddenly, there’s no time to write.

Ha, silly me. I thought perhaps after we moved here, I’d have spare time to finish that novel… Now I can’t even find time to write 500 words for a blog post.

It’s the rhythm of life. Suddenly there is much going on, but it is the routine of day-to-day, interspersed here and there with a gorgeous full moon, the bloom of a new starburst flower, the scent of peonies, a gentle sunrise.

But that is life, isn’t it? Making the most of those boring bits of life in-between the great, amazing stuff that, if we are honest, doesn’t really happen all that often.

It’s what we do with the routine and the interruptions to our routine that are important. Read this C.S. Lewis quote and put it on your fridge.

 Yes, the unremarkable, the humdrum, the commonplace — that’s the life God is sending us. And do we sing on the way to work, or grump about the trucks that are making us late?

Do we gripe about having to fix dinner on a day when we don’t get home until 6:00, or do we look into the fridge and make it a game with ourselves to come up with the best we can with what’s there?

Do we go to visit the neighbor when we really should be…  (insert really important thing to do here.)

I have to admit that I’m only good at loving the uneventful life sometimes. I try to remember that God has given us this ordinary life to live for him. He sees when we grumble at our husbands for no good reason except a mood; he knows when we choose to be in a funk, rather than pray; and best of all, He understands when we chafe against the boring bits of ho-hum pfhh that so much of life seems to be…
Bare hill
and he graciously gives us new eyes to see beauty in the familiar.

Triumph

The orange leaves triumph
for but a time;
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then fall to the ground
to be raked, bagged,
wind blown, composted —
changed.
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the tree triumphs
for but a time
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then falls to the ground
to be chopped, burned, planed,
firewood, timber, boards —
changed.
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men, women, you, me,
we triumph for but a time;
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then we fall to the ground,
the way of all life;
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust…
to be mourned, buried,
cremated, interred —
changed…

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but that is not the end.

For God
Triumphs
For all time.

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He rescues us
From dust
and calls us
To live
In Triumph
With Him
Forever.

Landscape

Thomas Wolfe wrote You Can’t Go Home Again, and the title has become an often-quoted phrase about change and memory.

Sheep farm on Ruff Creek Hill

sheep farm on Ruff Creek Hill

Yet here I am. Back home in These High Green Hills. Living within two miles of my childhood home. Living on what used to be my grandfather’s orchard.

Sunrise from my bedroom

sunrise from my bedroom

Sometimes a bit like being A Stranger in a Strange Land, but more often it is like being a stranger in a familiar land. Older and wiser, I see the familiar with new eyes — The Return of the Native…

The road home...

journey home…

New eyes that appreciate the beauty of the hills, streams, and roads of rural Appalachia.

these high greene hills

these high greene hills

New eyes that appreciate the need for economic development, but worry that it will spoil the ecosystems, the water, the landscape.

the cows' field, disturbed

the cows’ field, disturbed

New eyes that see God’s mercy on my life and the blessings of coming home again.

 

 

Landscapes? Yep, I got ’em! About 500 on my phone alone! The top three were taken today; the others are from a greener season …