a number?

dear emily,

i just read a blog post that said, "you are not a number!", and i thought,
"amen!"   i could never be a number.   those alien digits leave me cold.
i wish phone numbers could go back to "hi doris, could you please
dial phyllis for me?"

every evening at dinner, my father would receive multiple calls from
his answering service.   he never recorded a single number but could
hang up the phone and call each patient from memory.   one time i
asked him how he remembered all those telephone numbers.

"anyone ought to be able to remember seven numbers."  gulp.  well,
now it's ten!


i am not a number.   i am a word.   though small, i come from mighty
stock.   my word is as powerful as my time spent with the Word, and
i would rather memorize Him.

love,
lea

"in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and
the Word was God."  john 1:1

her hawk

she awaits the afternoon storm with growing anticipation.   her heart
leaps at the wind's gentle keening, and she runs to the porch to watch.

google image

her hawk circles gracefully over the verdant pasture then cries possessively,
"this is my valley, and i will do what i want here!"

she knows his fierce eyes are hunting for prey, but she pretends he is calling
to her.   though, what he would say to such a pitiful creature is best left
unsaid.   as the wind increases in might, he heads into it and serfs the perfect
wave.

she wants to shout and sing but can only watch, speechless, in awe of the
grace and strength.   and then the rumble of distant thunder speaks for her.

love,
lea

"He makes the clouds His chariot and rides on the wings of the wind."
psalm 104:3

jack, the guard dog

dear emily,

i am in colorado with my dog jack, getting the house ready for hans and
the  kids.    my only rule is that jack is not allowed in the master bedroom.  
(i should say hans' rule that i am trying to support.)  even so, jack sneaks in
everyday with his ears tucked against his head only to be shooed out again.  
his perseverence is remarkable.

yesterday our property manager came to the house while i was running
errands, and he said that our guard dog was remarkable.

"guard dog?"

apparently jack growled and nipped at the poor man's heels, following
him throughout the house, and then ran in front of him to guard my
bedroom door.   he wouldn't let him in.  it seems that if jack isn't allowed
in, nobody else is either.

remarkable.

love,
lea

"the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and
forevermore."  psalm 121:8

ps.   everyone in colorado is desperate and thankful for your prayers
for rain.

Light

dear emily,

my friend from 'his song to sing' encouraged me to memorize scripture again,
and now i can't imagine why i ever stopped.    well, i can.   my enemy lies to
me and says, "you don't really want to do this, it will take SO much time.
wouldn't you rather think about yourself?  what to wear, how to fix your hair?"

i remind myself of the wicked witch, "mirror, mirror on the wall . . . "

anyway, now that i'm feeding the part of myself that isn't reflected in a
mirror, my soul is growing nice and fat.    if only my body would get lean.

we have a small problem with light sneaking under and around the drapes in
our bedroom.    we've tried adding light inhibiting panels to no avail, so every
morning the light finds a way in.    darkness can not overcome light, but light
certainly can shine into darkness.

i have been feasting on this very passage from john 1 and would add, "in Him
was life, and that life was the light of men."

to Light,
lea

three little pigs

dear emily,

when our five kiddos were growing up, we had lots of fun taking them
exciting places.   staying within our four walls led to restlessness, which
led to broken windows.   it was a nice change of scenery to just get out.

managing five young children outside those four walls, created its own
conundrum.    how to keep them safe and other people safe from them!
sometimes, hans would take the boys, and i would take the girls.

one time he said, "you take the two big kids, and i will take the three
little kids."

the middle kid, max, was perplexed.   "dad, did you just call us the
three little pigs?"

so now we do.

love,
lea

"the demons begged Jesus, 'if You drive us out, send us into the herd
of pigs."   matthew 8:31

do you ever feel like a prune?

dear emily,

my friends and i were bemoaning the recent pruning in our lives.   will we
be pruned until we turn into prunes, wrinkly old ladies in our caskets?

i can live with that.

someone said, "you're pruned if you do and pruned if you don't," which
is better than the alternative (death.)   the vine that isn't pruned, stops
yielding sweet fruit, which is a form of death.

so i want my epitat to say:  "she was old and wrinkly but still a little fruity."

love,
lea

"if a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit."  john 15:5

going to the chapel . . .

dear emily,

my eldest son is getting married a week from saturday, and we are over-
joyed.   over as in "over the moon."  i chose his bride to be, and who gets
to do that anymore?   me.

she is like sunshine.   not the hot, blaring kind.   the warm and dappled
sunny kind.   he is like the rock of gibralter.   steady, dependable, and
kind.

they will be a powerful force "in the shadow of the Lord."  (psalm 91)

love,
lea