Snickerdoodles and dreamsicle cookies for my Com212 class, gun range with hubby, his best man and his daughter/our Goddaughter, and dinner at the delightful Kramarczuk’s. Oh yum! Oh bullseye!
My lovely eclectic weekend. If only every frigid weekend could be as full of good food and friendship as this, it would be lovely!
I fell in the garden again today.
Shouldn’t be a real big surprise, what with my still-unfamiliar tenny-runners fit with orthotics that help keep my Size 11′s from flattening like runny pancakes.
As I lay there, the only thing going through my mind was, “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!”
Not on the voice of the classy new septuagenarian in a snappy pantsuit that they’ve used to revamp their brand, but the mean-looking, frizzy-haired woman in the mumu. Remember her? She was but a shade away from “Momma,” from Throw Momma from the Train. Well, today, that’s me.
This little stumble of mine caused me to think of all the little (and sometimes major) things that we take for granted as First-World, healthy people. …like being able to get up after lying on the ground, and running water.
Today, pay attention to all of the tiny/tremendous details of life that make us feel helpless when they don’t “work.” Muscles that pull, bones that break, lights that don’t turn on, water that runs brown.
Meanwhile, I’ll just be over here on the ground, yelling for Owen.
After seeing this, it makes me wonder how can anyone can deny our Heavenly Father.
The curves in each drop of water, the delicate veining, the amazing and un-retouched color. But most of all, the deep and seemingly infinite inner light that shines brightly from each flower’s center in the morning, and is curled away each afternoon by the singular circular flower petal that rolls delicately into a tight little bundle. Then, before the sun rises, the bundle unfurls to reveal that perfect glowing light. God is in the details. God is everywhere.
It’s hot, muggy and so rotten humid today.
I spent a good part of the day stalking and killing the Japanese Beetles devouring our pretty pink flowering tree. (If you put liquid dish detergent and water in a spray bottle, you can become a killing machine.)
Beautiful beetle sex tree - ick!
So sweating, de-bugging and breathing in muggy, hot stale air, it somehow became a delightful reminder of being alive, and the joy of experiencing things both good and bad.
This week, two people I have worked with in the past few years, and considered kind, caring people passed away this week.
It was a stark reminder that life is good. Life is precious.
Unless you’re a beetle.