RefreshingEDEN making all things new

SUMMER AT WHALON LAKE

monday, august 30

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that an ordinary, every day scene that is close enough to bike to can be a place of serene, take-you-by surprise beauty. Especially in the middle of Midwest suburbia. Yet, if I were to put forth a picture of rolling hills introduced by wildflowers and azure lake and label it “Ireland”, somehow our hearts would nod “yes, yes. God has certainly put His beauty stamp here.”

Perhaps we do the same with the ordinary, every day people we live with or even the mundane tasks we take up Monday through Friday. I know it isn’t often that I’m surprised by their beauty. But looking at Whalon Lake down the road nudges me to reconsider. The lake itself is only a filled-in granite quarry, the leftovers of our efforts to cull what

we need out of the earth. And somewhat humorous stands the rolling verdant hills overlooking this hole. A covered-up garbage dump. If a hole and a dump can evoke strands of lilting Irish song, then surely a work-a-day middle-aged husband or the hum of a Hoover upright can cause my heart to fill with quiet joy, even taking my breath away for a second at the wonder of being graced with such gifts.  And I thank Him for the reminder that not only His mercies, but His graces are new every day.

tuesday, august 31

I hope when my life is over, when I’ve taken my last tentative breath and loved ones look upon my “tent” one last time, I hope I resemble in some way the columns at Corinth. These columns stand there with regal aplomb, having done so for thousands of years with really very little change, considering. Weather and wars and men have all done their best to influence the shapes of these linear sky markings, with only minimal success.

Today I watched a turtle sunning himself on a log. A kindly docent pointed him out to the children and parents playing around this turtle’s habitat, yet with all the attention, all the toddler energy and motherly directives, the turtle was unfazed. The people, the noise, even the heat did not cause this odd looking reptile to change his stance one iota.

And as I ponder over my day, where I’ve encountered angry outbursts, expectant comments, and uncooperative moods I desire more than anything to be a turtle or a column, unwilling to react to my surroundings. Either will do, as both are beautiful in their own right. For their beauty comes in their humble contentedness to simply be (if you will excuse the anthropomorphism), responding to life according to the character they have been infused with. For I have been infused with the wholly (and holy) delightful character of my Savior. How much more then do I need to be as contented as these?

wednesday, sept 1

September nostalgia. Transitions. The two apparently go together even after your children have grown. And on the brink of yet another transition I am reminded that the leaves have something to teach me. Transitions can be beautiful. Of course they don’t have to be. Like the mighty oaks that often hold on to their brown, dried petticoats until the snowfall or beyond, foregoing the chance to show off who they really are underneath all that chlorophyll, I too can choose to hold on to what was of last season and not allow God to show off the transformation that He’s been doing in me. Still-green leaves whisper to me “Don’t lose heart. Let go. Let it show. Everything is beautiful in its time.”