Looking at the back side

This morning, timing worked out where I could stop at one of my favorite sunrise watching spots along Loop 322 to watch God's wonders unfold.  The view of the rising sun in the east was spectacular.

As I turned to get back in the car, I caught my breath as I looked off to the west.  The "back side" of the sunrise stunned me - different, yet so beautiful.

I guess it's human nature to look at the center ring, wherever it might be, and easy to lose focus on everything else. Sometimes it takes more effort to look for the glory on the back side - harder to see, not as obvious, requiring time and attention to the details.  And while the eastern view this morning was worthy, the 360-degree view tells the whole story of God's ever-encompassing love and care. 

It reminded me of the beautiful stanza from St. Patrick's "Breastplate" prayer (if you haven't read the whole thing lately, you should - it's inspiring):

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

Looking for Christ behind me - where often least expected - can be a challenge.  And when the obvious things, the things we hang on to for evidence of faith, fail us - and they will - sometimes the only place we can find solace is in the knowledge that there's nowhere we can go that Christ is not before and behind me.  No depths or heights could possibly remove me from Christ beneath me and Christ above me. I can have no experience where Christ fails to be in solidarity with me.  When I'm lonely, in the silence Christ is there.

Tonight God capped off the day with another one of his evening miracles.

He reminded me of two familiar scriptures that speak a word much like St. Patrick's prayer.  May they remind you as well that morning and evening, before and behind, God your Father, Christ your brother, and the blessed Holy Spirit are intimately caring for you, in ways obvious and other ways hidden on the back side.

...the LORD will watch over your coming and going 

both now and forevermore. 

(Psalm 121:8)

Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.  

(Isaiah 58:8)

Just two eyes to see

I just returned from a few days of doing one of my favorite things - spending time with my parents, mother-in-law, nieces, nephews, daughters, and other family members.  Brian was in Kansas for a training, so I went solo.  To get there, I did one of my other favorite things - drive the highways and some back roads along the way, and take pictures to my heart's content.  It's early wildflower season in central Texas, so the roadsides were splashed with almost every hue under the rainbow.  There are many ordinary objects that become beautiful when surrounded by flowers, and the fields are full of horses, cattle and goats with their young. We celebrated the new life of my niece, Bella, who turned one month old this week.

Moments of beauty are everywhere!  New life thrives and hollers out for attention.  But there is beauty even in the middle and later times of life - the beauty of love that has survived many bumps and bruises; the beauty of seeing lives changed because your loved ones care and work and reach out; the beauty of laughter and quiet walks and shared history.

I was having a bit of difficulty with iTunes at one point on the road, and I pulled out an old CD by Rich Mullins, the gifted singer-songwriter who was killed in 1997.  His album, "A Liturgy, a Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band," has a wonderful variety of music (including hammered dulcimer in the arrangements).  I was struck, however, by the appropriateness of the very first track, "Here In America," to my travels.  Here are a couple of the verses:

And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

And if I were a painter I do not know which I'd paint
The calling of the ancient stars or assembling of the saints
And there's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see
But everywhere I go I'm looking

Just two eyes to see, indeed. But everywhere I go, I'm looking.

P.S.  If you'd like to see photos of my journey, here's the album:

On the wings of the wind

In west Texas, the wind is a reality of daily life. Winter winds cut like a knife, encountering little resistance from topography or trees. Summer winds can feel like a blast furnace when combined with 100-degree temperatures. But spring....spring winds bring all kinds of things! Sometimes they come ahead of thunderstorms, other times leading one of those surprise cold fronts (isn't winter over?). Today they were steady all day, 30-40 mph. I complained and prepared for the great brown-ness that happens when Lubbock blows in to town. However, today God treated us to a beautiful show of his splendor all day long. It began with a beautiful sunrise.

The clouds swirled throughout the day in massive formations, moving, growing, reconfiguring moment by moment.

And then tonight -30 spectacular minutes of sunset, moonrise, and birdsong as the winds began to settle down for the night.

The psalmist who wrote Psalm 104 must have understood my plight. Physical metaphors and comparisons are insufficient, though he really tries!

Praise the LORD, my soul.

   LORD my God, you are very great; 

   you are clothed with splendor and majesty.

The LORD wraps himself in light as with a garment; 

   he stretches out the heavens like a tent 

   and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters. 

He makes the clouds his chariot 

   and rides on the wings of the wind. 

He makes winds his messengers,

   flames of fire his servants. 

(Psalm 104:1-4, NIV)

Today, all I could do was stand in the presence of the One who rides on the wings of the wind, feel his messengers brush my cheeks and ruffle my hair, and cry, "Glory!"

The first one ... or is it?

Today I enjoyed glorious weather and sunshine to get my flower garden ready for spring.  The annual clean-out includes trimming back perennial plants like salvia greggii, lantana, Russian sage, ruellia; getting excess leaves out of the beds; giving the rose bush a severe haircut; and treating for my ever-present foes, the fire ants.

As a younger woman, I would get the fever with everyone else and march down to the nursery to pick up a flat of annuals, most of which I killed - too impatient, too neglectful.  The idea of flowers was a thrill, but the reality of having them was a downer.  Then I became friends with an older couple who loved to garden.  They shared plants and confidence!  Since then, perennials have been my game.  Several of the items I am growing were gifts shared from others - the purple iris came from my grandmother Lizzy's garden; the white iris from my parents' house in the country; the scabiosa (pincushion flower) from Catherine Rall; the ruellia from Kathy Myrick; the wandering Jew from down at the church building.  So, as each awakens in its turn in the spring, I eagerly anticipate blooms and think of my sweet friends and family.

Now is the time of awakening - of the first things.  The first tiny leaves in the cluster of dry sticks that used to be a lantana, and even a little cluster of a bloom today:

Last week it was the first blossoms of the Bradford pear trees up and down my streets, early harbingers of what is to come.

And, even though in my mind it is "the first," in my spirit I'm reminded that this is the repeat of the creation story all over again that God has reenacted throughout the millennia. Each new bud, each new flower, each new leaf sings of the eternal faithfulness of God.

"Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest; 

Sun, moon and stars in their courses above:

Join with all nature in manifold witness

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.  

Great is Thy faithfulness!  Great is Thy faithfulness!  

Morning by morning new mercies I see. 

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided. 

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me."

Father, help me remember with each small creative act of the spring to see You there, and anticipate your creative work in me. And help me get rid of the weeds and leaves that might make me miss what you are doing.

Beginnings

"For the beauty of the earth,

For the beauty of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise

This our hymn of grateful praise."

These words inspire the beginnings of this journey in word, combined with images that help tell the story of the wonderful, powerful, artistic, caring God we serve.  

King David felt awe and gratitude when he stated:

"The heavens declare the glory of God; 

the skies proclaim the work of his hands." (Psalm 19:1)

In the days to come, we will think together about why the beauty of the earth matters so much, especially to me and to others who are struggling through desert times or other difficulties.  if you have photos, I would be happy to share them here if you'll tell me what they have meant to you.  Until then, do me a favor - look up at the skies!  Look down at the small beauties many miss.  Look around at the faces of those made in God's image.  Imagine that they are sweet gifts from someone who loves you dearly.  And that is what they are.

Grace and peace,

Rendi