Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Violet Beatrice Gean Stricklin
October 26, 1917-November 11, 2007
It's my mama's birthday.
The Earth revolved and seasons changed ninety times while she was here.
Uneducated, but wise.
Beautiful, work-roughened hands never still.
Her life was taking care of her family, and that she did well, even when the road was hard.
She did massive amounts of laundry on a wringer washer; her clothes lines full every sunny day expect Sunday.
She could coax nutritious vegetables out of tired clay soil, rising with the sun to do battle with weeds.
Her quilts still warm our beds and our hearts.
Known for her incomparable biscuits, she made enough in her lifetime to completely fill a Cracker Barrel.
More familiar with pain than joy, she endured.
She lived to see adult children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.
We are educated, talented, well-traveled, scattered.
She lives in all of us.
In heaven, we are promised a mansion, blissful rest.
I'll bet my mama's has a clothesline, white robes waving in the breeze.
She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed. Proverbs 31: 27,28
Friday, October 15, 2010
And he will love thee, and bless thee, and multiply thee: he will also bless the fruit of thy womb, and the fruit of thy land, thy corn, and thy wine, and thine oil, the increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep, in the land which he sware unto thy fathers to give thee. Deuteronomy 7:13
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
October is wind chimes singing in the cool northwest wind. Clean linens wave in the breeze, storing the smell of October for days when we are needy. Under an incomparable blue sky, trees don their showiest apparel for a grand finale before they stand naked, limbs drooping with winter.
God has blessed us with a glorious harvest, and the pantry shelves and freezers are bursting with summer's bounty. We watch the squirrels in the backyard as they frantically gather hickory nuts, sensing a barren time ahead without any weather forecasts. We stack the stalks of spent okra and rake the detritus of tomatoes and squash as we plan next year's garden.
Sweatshirts and flannel pajamas have replaced shorts and tees, and we add quilts to the bed. We snuggle under them while the open windows invite breezes to cleanse the stale air-conditioned air that we have breathed all summer. The ten o'clock train whistle cries lonesome, so clear with the windows open.
It is special, living in a small part of this temporary planet so beautiful that it takes the breath away. Think about how loving our Father is. He knows our lives are so short, so limited, yet he designed this for us, just to make our stay here comfortable.
Our home in October.
Breathe it in.
I'm so very, very glad to be here.