beauty

The Winter Village

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

A crescent ray of filtered sunlight peeps in through the upstairs bedroom window.

Languid, lazy stretches; it’s cozy under the heavy heirloom quilt. I doze a bit longer enjoying the peace and quiet until the calico cat frisks and pounces on my moving foot, forcing me to get up and begin the day.

Soft, fluffy slipper socks wait next to the pine wood nightstand. Quilt-warmed feet are toasty padding down the narrow stair, the familiar creak at the fifth step from the bottom is comforting.

Snow!

A light snow has fallen in the night coating the garden and the stone fence with a sparkly spunkiness that beckons a walk to the village.

But first, coffee!

The warm, comforting coffee-scent permeates the chilly kitchen. Crispy bacon on toast sounds delicious this snow-bright morning – just enough until I make my way to Penny’s Pastries in the village square.

The watery sunlight filtering through the slowly building clouds begs for knee-high snow boots, the puffed navy-blue snow jacket and thick, red tartan scarf, navy gloves, and a beanie. Festive and snug!

The fluffy white cat lounges in his cardboard box bed on the end of the couch, watching sleepily as I don my winter apparel. He is quite happy to lie about for the morning, nestled down on the red fleece blanket tucked into the box.

Wrapped up and warm, I venture into the pretty snow-covered garden and out the creaky, wooden gate to begin my snowy adventure.

More snow than I realize has fallen during the night. The way it gently drifts and pillows the lane into the village square is lovely and inviting – that satisfying snow-crunch under foot.

Winking, colorful Christmas lights add a festive sparkle to the windows of Della’s Curio Shoppe on the corner. Antique Christmas decorations and assorted glass bowls filled with hard candies, invites one to step inside and browse the eclectic trinkets. A calming scent of vanilla, fir, and old things tease the senses. A jolly looking antique snowman catches my eye. Carefully wrapped trinket in hand, I venture on into the village.

The small group of well bundled carolers gracing the entrance to the old stone church, sing with gusto as they nod a greeting to those who stop for a spell. Their blending sopranos and altos swirl up and away into the wintry air on frosted breath. A wistful sigh of nostalgia brushes against me as I remember Christmases past with caroling, hot cocoa and festive holiday laughter…

Ah! Penny’s Pastries!

A scent of baking, heady and delicious, wafts from the wreathed door as patrons come and go, leaving a path in the powdery snow. Will she have fresh cream currant scones? She does! I settle myself, the scone, and some steamy Winter Blend tea at a rustic table near the windows. People watching!

Across the square, Nadia’s Toys & Treasures is doing brisk business this morning! The festive window display draws in the strolling families as they watch the model train set navigate the miniature hills and tunnels covered in flakey snow. Tiny sheep and cattle settled on the snowy fields watch its progress. Wide eyed children beg to go in and see where that tiny train goes on its round and round journey. Adventure!

Kitty-corner is Bea’s Nifty Notions n’ Such serving the sew-ers, knitters and crafters of the village.  Brightly colored holiday ribbons, soft knit hats, mittens, and a plump Mrs. Claus at an antique sewing machine, adorn her display windows. It reminds me of my mother and grandmother – their beautiful handmade gifts and crafts so lovingly created. Two older ladies with bright purple hats and matching scarves bustle out the door. The holiday themed bags are filled with supplies for their next sewing project.

The clock-tower bells chime the hour with a deep, silvery gong. How times flies! There is more to see so I head out into the bustling square.

Lunch time!

Next stop, Lazzaro’s Deli.  A prosciutto, ham, salami, and Swiss cheese sandwich with a few swipes of golden mustard, thin-sliced red onion, a splash of balsamic and olive oil, just a touch, mind, and some plump grapes accompany me on a hike up the hill behind the village.  There is a small grove of pines at the top where adventurous children haul their sleds and all variety of hand-made sliding contraptions, to fly down the slope – yelping, shouting, and having a splendid time. Freedom and flight!

Weathered pine picnic tables are scattered around the grove for year-round picnickers, each table with a view of the sledders and village below. What a pleasant way to pass the afternoon. Memories pop up of climbing the hill at night with thermoses of hot cocoa and Baileys to look at the village adorned in Christmas lights. Spellbinding!

A quick brindle dog and large German Shepherd dash through the grove, pouncing and digging in the snow in search of the ball they have been fetching. While the dogs are busy, their owners pull out their picnic hoping to get in a few bites before the ball is found. The dog-kicked and flung snow comes dangerously close to my table. Laughing, I take that as my signal to head back down the hill.

Crisp, pine-scented, wintry air tousles my hair peeping out from under the beanie. Filling my lungs with the cold air is so invigorating! I’m alive and well on this wonderful day.

At the edge of the village, I change course and walk the lesser traveled side lanes. The snow drifts are deeper here but still navigable. The sun begins an early descent in the mountains and the shadows grow longer. The fading, muted light is a bit eerie as clouds move in and hover lower in the winter sky. The unmistakable feeling of snow.

The quaint and tumbled houses are pretty with their covers of snow and puffing chimneys. Safe and homey. A group of children jostle out one of the doors and into the nearby field pummeling each other with snowballs. Shouts and whoops of laughter break up the quiet.

Heading to the left, I follow the lane running along the banks of a stream. It passes from the hills through the village and out and beyond. Normally noisy and full of life, the quietening of winter renders it silent and still, as if in a deep and restful sleep. As I cross the sturdy stonework bridge spanning the iced-over stream, it broadens out into a wide, gentle lake frozen into the perfect ice-skating rink.  Ordering a large hot cocoa from the festive concessions stand, I grab a seat on one of the nearby benches.

Dinnertime!

The Aberdeen Café and Mama’s Diner fill up with hungry shoppers and families who need a quick refuel and rest before ice skating begins. I’m happy I have half a sandwich leftover from lunch. Trekking up and down the hill made me hungry. As the heat from the hot cocoa leaches into my chilly hands, I gaze around the square at the beautifully lit fir tree with its merry winking lights and lovely lit-up angel at the top.

With dinner finished, the brave and adventurous head out onto the ice. They are all in top form! Some glide by with calm, happy smiles while others slip along with mouths formed into a nervous O, as they precariously zip and zing across the ice.  There will be more than a few sore bums and knees before the night is over.

The village is festive and welcoming with its lovely lights and lit up greenery. I hesitate to head home yet, but it’s been a long day. The coziness of my aunt and uncle’s cottage, with the crackling fire they will have blazing, beckons me to go on home.

Finishing the hot cocoa, I take another look at the cheerful shops and happy skaters. What a lovely day!

I scoop up my package from the curio shoppe and make my way along the darkening lane to the cottage. As I walk and breathe in the frigid night air, a gentle snow begins to fall on the winter village. The large fluffy flakes are soft and gentle. So peaceful. I marvel at the way they flutter and float on the wintry night air, each going their own way. There is a deliberateness to the random way they descend and find their landing place. Each one with a specific spot that adds to the piling snow drifts – each one needed. I imagine the Creator’s joy and excitement as each one is uniquely crafted and thought out. Humanity isn’t so different from these beautiful snowflakes.

Turning onto Lakeview Lane, I pause to take in the cottage before heading inside. So lovely, the way it sparkles and winks, white lights outlining its edges and curves, smoke gently chuffing from the stone chimney. Inviting. Lovely memories of my day in the village are safely tucked away as snowy peace descends on the winter village.

Lessons from Cancer and Life…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 2 Comments

Lessons from Cancer and Life

In November 2010, I was diagnosed with an aggressive, fast-moving breast cancer and immediately began an exhausting and terrifying set of surgeries and treatments ending in April 2012. Our lives were upended, exposed, and thrust into a trajectory of the unknown for over 2 years. That experience taught me so much and I will never forget. So many lessons learned – about myself, the resilience of the human body, the primal urge to survive and that in my frailty and weakness I am made strong in my Creator.

On April 26, 2012, at 2:15 pm, I was told, “You are cancer free!”

As this anniversary date approaches every year many things run through my mind. The random memories of the cancer center and the “one of a kind, not found anywhere else” smell of it, the taste of peppermint candies I sucked on in an attempt to mask the horrible taste of saline and chemo, the ice chips I held in my mouth to keep painful ulcers from forming (I cannot stand ice in my drinks or mouth to this day), the blanket I brought to keep warm during treatments and comfy pink slipper socks. I still hear the sound of radiation equipment being dialed into place with strange and other-worldly whirs, clicks and bleeps. It was a lonely feeling in the brightly lit, freezing radiation room as the technicians went behind thick layers of protective safety walls and I lay there exposed, cold, and numb willing the machine noises to stop; hoping I wouldn’t burn.

There are good and treasured memories of my faithful husband going with me to every treatment, while through the IVs and tubes, the meds flowed in or when a dear friend sat with me and prayed and chatted during a long treatment. The distraction of good company meant so much to me even though it was hard and uncomfortable for them.

Ahh, then there are the beautiful memories of my little 2nd grade boy asking me to hop on his bed as he tucked me in with blankets and got out his books to read to me. Blessed. Loved. Precious. This sweet boy is now a brave, courageous young man in the United States Army – respectful, strong, and absolutely determined with a kind and compassionate heart.

It meant the world to me when my sweet 6th grade girl would tell me about her day with the ups and downs of middle school, feeling so blessed she shared with me and praying so hard I would have years and years ahead of me to listen to her talk. She’s almost 24 now and out living her life – a beautiful, compassionate, strong, and amazing young woman with a kind and generous heart. God answered that prayer for more time with my family.

Through all the living I’ve done, I discovered I am physically strong. My body fought with everything it had to beat this invader named breast cancer. It endured extreme treatments, pain, panic, nausea, steroids, exhaustion, and hair loss but never stopped fighting. God gave me strength to make it through one more day, one more test, and one more treatment. He did it. He is absolutely faithful. His eyes never left me, and His tears mixed with my own as I was wrapped in His arms crying out my fear, rage, and frustration – wondering if I would die.

I am still learning to view my body through a different filter. I am proud of my scars. They shout out that a battle was waged and won. I am determined to be strong and healthy, so do what I love – hiking, biking, and all things outdoors.  I need to enjoy every single second of life I am given. So sometimes I choose to eat the dessert and not worry over whether or not I will look great in a swimsuit. I am alive and that is enough. Our days are numbered, and I want to take advantage of each one with those I fiercely love.

Despite days of deep sadness, fear of the unknown, rage, pain, and brain fog, I told myself I would get through this – that cancer would not win. Not this time. God absolutely gave me more than I could handle because we were never meant to walk out this life in our own strength. I chose to believe God would be with me through every test, every treatment, every bit of good and bad news. I held on to that and He proved Himself faithful, merciful, and compassionate. Yes, it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Yes, it put my body, mind, and soul to the ultimate test. I am an overcomer and so are you.

When other trials come along, like trials always do, I remind myself to look back on all that my Healer brought me through.  He infuses me with strength and courage. As a brand-new Army Mom, I feel lost, overwhelmed, and adrift in this new season. I am trying to draw on past fortitude, peace, strength, and flexibility to navigate all this new season of life throws at us. I battled cancer and I won; I can do this new thing because seasons past have given me a warrior heart and soul.  Fear, lack of control, paralyzing worry, loneliness and so much uncertainty is already rearing its head. My family and I are being forced to do life differently now and view it through a different lens.  

Life can be hard, unpredictable, and unfair but if you look closely, you will find nuggets of joy and hidden treasures of beauty in everything. It is there just waiting to be discovered but you must look for it, change your filter from a victim mentality and choose life – choose to seek peace, hope and sweetness in whatever is swirling around you. I promise you it IS there. I remind myself daily, minute by minute, that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me. You can, too. It is only by His strength, love, and healing and my decision to trust Him with myself that I am here to live another day and breathe another breath. It is His breath in my lungs. He saved my life and changed, and still is, changing my perspective. I am thankful. I have another day to live.

My hope and prayer as I travel out this next chapter in life, is that I leave everyone better than I found them – that encouragement, compassion and hope will trail behind me like a gentle beacon defying the darkness and shining the light of the One who is Light.  

“But I’ll take the hand of those who don’t know the way, who can’t see where they’re going. I’ll be a personal guide to them, directing them through unknown country. I’ll be right there to show them what roads to take, make sure they don’t fall into the ditch. These are the things I’ll be doing for them—sticking with them, not leaving them for a minute.” Isaiah 42:16 MSG

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5 ESV

Whirlwind

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There is a restless, unsettled energy hovering around my heart and soul this morning as I take that first anticipated sip of coffee. The dark, earthy scent is familiar and safe; an old and expected routine. Yet, the familiarity is not calming and soothing this morning and that throws me off-kilter.

Watching the critter activity from my kitchen window, steaming coffee warming my hands, I am reminded of the power nature possesses to soothe, hush, and calm my spirit. It’s where I talk to You and hear You speak to me. Healing. Peace.

Time to get outside!

Donning a hoodie with Pacific Northwest on the front, I grab a hat. I choose the one that says “Sorta Sweet, Sorta Savage” on the front of it. That’s how I feel this morning. Restless, savage, a bit wild in the heart. I need movement.

The park with the pond is beautiful this morning. The geese are already up, fussing and snipping at the grass, finding their favorite delicacies. Their contented honks and bossy hissing are pleasant and funny. The routine of it calms and soothes. My chilled hands unclench, just a bit.

There is a big white egret sunning itself and hunting. It stands on its thin, nimble legs on a jumble of rocks in a corner of the pond motionless, yet always watching for the slightest movement of its next meal. The egret shares this rock with another pond dweller catching some morning sun. Always vigilant and suspicious, the large pond turtle appears to be oblivious to me, but I know it isn’t. I’m being carefully monitored.

Brilliant blue sky above me, dew-damp grass under my feet, and a spunky breeze skipping around the pond – the perfect morning.

On the other side of the pond the trees are showing off their gorgeous autumn colors. The vivid oranges and reds blend and blur with the yellows and greens like a startling tableau of beauty and peace. I take a few moments at the edge of the pond to soak it in. The sight is majestic, bold, and insistent – the contrasting loveliness of the bright blue sky and these gorgeous colors demand all my focus and attention. There is strength and defiance in the colors and tenacious hold these trees have on their foliage, as they shout their last hurrah before letting go and descending into rest, quiet and rebirth at the change of season. It must happen. The change is inevitable, predicted and set into motion by Your design. The letting go is part of life as it unrelentingly moves forward. I see that as I take in the trees and seasonal changes at the pond. It brings some comfort to my troubled and agitated heart.

This is a season of many changes and I’m forced to find my way in a new normal. I don’t like it and it frightens me. I struggle and kick, even though I know it will happen despite my stubborn clinging. I feel a bit savage about the letting go. Unsettled. Unknown. Defiant.

Moving along the edge of the pond, I look up through the stunning leaf color and pause to breathe deeply. I sense You here with me. Cleansing. Surrender. Beauty. Safe.

You are here in the season of rebirth and new life, and the season of release and rest. It is incessant, this change of season. It is needed, necessary and it will happen. My shoulders slowly drop, and my back relaxes as You speak to my soul and minister to my heart. You remind me there is beauty in the letting go. It is the precursor to a season of change, growth, and intimacy with You. The status quo never brings the exciting feeling of a new chapter and fresh adventures. You have more in store for me. My purpose on Earth is continually moving – being blown by Your breath and Your plan. The journey to get there involves upheaval and letting go. Trust. Intimacy. Faith.

The spunky breeze is back and becoming a bit more playful in its bluster. Resuming my walk, I am suddenly caught up in a whirlwind of brightly finished leaves and brown grasses, whirling, and tossing and pulling at my hat. Laughing, I raise my arms and let it dart, tease and play!  Zipping and dancing all around me and sticking to my sleeves, the leaves embrace the wildness and seemingly random whim of the wind and let go. It is magical, beautiful, and joyful! My heart responds and softens – restlessness and fear melting away.  “Can I trust You with me, Lord?”, I ask in the wind. “Absolutely!”, the leaves reply, as they dash away in freedom on the adventure You created for them.

Hometown

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There’s only a few more miles to go until her exit. The familiarity of these bends and curves in the highway prick at her mind. In a comforting way it feels like a buttery old glove made of soft leather molded to your hand. It fits snugly and securely wrapping you in warmth and a thin layer of protection. However, if she’s being honest, she isn’t feeling very secure.  How many years has it been since she’s been “home”? Her nerves are a bit jangly and wiry, and she wonders at her decision to visit her hometown. Will it fill the void gnawing at her heart – that unsettled feeling of something unfinished and dangling, something needing her attention to bring closure and perhaps much needed peace. It’s a vague nuance of emotion that dances in her soul; twirling and spinning, beckoning her to explore and discover what’s sitting within her demanding attention. What is it that needs her to let go?

Sipping the last dregs of her Peets oat milk, light foam latte, Natalie rounds the last bend. Here is the slight rise in the highway with the old barn in the field to the left. It once was a rusty red, but with all the weathering it’s endured the color is now a dusty brown. The big sign hangs by a tilted chain over the arched entrance. The country lane leading up to it still has potholes and ruts. The name painted on the sign is kind of hard read, but Natalie knows it by heart – Whispering Oaks Farm. The small orchard to the right is still standing but my, how the trees have aged and gnarled and twisted.

Two dappled horses languidly munch grass hay in their tidy corral. Natalie remembers Mr. Jameson allowing her and her friends to bring apples and carrots to his horses. She loved the feel of their chin whiskers tickling the palm of her hand and the intelligence in their dark eyes.

Her exit is next, and she signals and slows to follow it down and to the right. There’s a stoplight now where there once was a STOP sign. Modernization! At the green light, she heads into town to see what else has changed.

So much looks the same. There are tweaks, updated signs and fresh paint on some of the storefronts, but most of the businesses look the same as when she left.  Almost imperceptibly, her grip on the steering wheel loosens. Her neck and shoulders drop as muscles unclench and settle a bit.  There is something comforting here in the old and familiar.

Parking along the street bordering the town square, Natalie steps out, stretches, and watches people entering the bookstore and the new-to-her café on the opposite side of the square. In front of her, people stroll around the grassy, tree lined park. Some have coffee in green cups from the café. Others carry restless children demanding to get down, so they can run, screech, and play in the small, shady play area. Still others sit and watch the world go by or read their books, absorbed in the tales being told.

Natalie walks the park, taking in the scent of the pine trees growing in a cluster at one end. Pine has always held an old, safe, happy scent. The splashing fountain is updated and much cleaner now. It is so cheerful in its bubbling and chuckling. She feels the corners of her mouth turn up and can’t help smiling with the happy fountain. She remembers picnics and cold sodas in the summer on the grass right here in this spot.

She sits for a bit to take it all in. She did have happy times here; she did have fun and felt like she belonged. She did… How long will she allow that one memory, with its wounds and startling betrayal to stifle her? Natalie was sure that moving away would force that memory to fade into the jumble of her fast-paced new life in a bigger city, with more people and chaos to drown it out. Maybe it did for a little while, but it never truly went away, did it? Is this why she feels such a draw and pull on her heart to be back here? Is it time to let that terrible memory go, so she can peek back in time with fondness and happy nostalgia, to the little town that formed her and grew her up? She has such a need to remember some peace and joy, some happy contentment without the roiling bitterness and pain flooding it all out. Yes. She thinks nostalgia and healing are what’s been calling to her…

Waking up before the alarm clock, Dominic feels a push to get moving this morning. It’s an interesting anticipation and he wonders what it wants from him.

With his morning routine complete, Dominic grabs his keys, wallet and phone and scoots out the door. On the way to the café, he remembers he needs oat milk; it is becoming quite popular, and he’s run out. Swinging by the neighborhood market to grab some, he notices a flat of bright colored lollipops by the cash register. For some reason, they catch his eye. Hmmm. These could be a fun addition to the pick-up counter. Dominic buys the flat, picturing the short, wide mouthed vase he will put these lollies in as a fun, catchy display. His long-time barista, Meredith, will probably roll her eyes and tease him for it. He chuckles as he figures out some brilliant comebacks to her good-natured ribbing.

Opening his shop, The Cuppa Café, Dominic gives it a once over, like he does every morning. He turns the hand painted OPEN sign facing out. “I wonder who will stop by today?”, he asks the pastry display.

The church that her grandma brought her to as a kid is down the street about two blocks from the town square. Natalie remembers the smell of wax, hymnals and a faint, flowery scent.  She reaches the steps to the church and takes it in for a few minutes, before trying the big double doors. It looks the same, radiating a welcoming sense of belonging. The white paint by the doors is scuffed and peeling in random places along the sides and near the stained-glass window. The church spire points up, up, up.

Her breathing feels easier and lighter; not so strained and constricted. Funny, she never noticed how hard it’s been lately to breathe deeply. Feeling a calm, lovely serenity beckoning her, Natalie opens the doors and steps into the chapel. The scent memory hits her, enveloping and wrapping around her like an old quilt. Safety. Comfort. Peace. The frenetic energy drains away as she sits on a faded, padded pew and rests. She rests mind and body, allowing her spirit to drink in the memories that pour forth. Healing memories. Church potlucks, kids’ choir, Christmas Eve services and VBS – where the teachers always had a supply of sweet, bright colored lollipops as prizes. Such happy times!

Delicious feelings and gentle memories smooth out the worn, cracked, bandaged up places in her heart; even that place where the wounds and betrayal are hidden is tended to with mercy, grace, and healing. It’s time to let go and allow it to be taken from her. She’s ready. Natalie lifts her head and notices dust motes floating above her, dancing and moving toward the beautiful stained-glass window. She imagines those motes as tiny balloons with wispy tails carrying the wounds and pain, ascending toward the gentle light to be kept and tended by Someone else now. Freedom. Joy. Nostalgia.

Her time in the church brings restoration and lightness. Nostalgia is healing. The old things and memories hold a special balm that soothes and brings clarity. This was her call to come home for a spell. A reckoning in her spirit that needed to happen, and it did.

Warm soothing coffee sounds lovely right now, so Natalie makes her way to The Cuppa Café. Pushing open the doors, the bright, roasty scent of coffee brushes up against her. A man in a green apron is adding scones to his pastry display. “Hi and welcome in!”, he calls. The barista named Meredith finishes rinsing some cups and hurries over to take her order of a large oat milk latte with light foam. “Hey, you’re in luck! I grabbed a big carton of oat milk just this morning on my way in”, Dominic tells her. Natalie smiles, nods, and waits as Meredith makes her drink. “Is it ok if I add a bit more foam to your drink?”, Meredith asks, “I have a new foam design I’d like to try, and it need just a bit more to make it look right.” “Sure,” Natalie says, “how fun!”

Walking to the end of the coffee bar, bright colors in a short, wide mouthed vase catch her eye. There is a sign propped up against the vase that says, “Take One.” Oh my…the lollipops. What in the world? Natalie carefully picks a bright yellow one.

“Here you go!” Meredith hands her the cup and turns to start on the next order. Heading to a nearby table, Natalie sits and looks in the cup. The carefully crafted foam design is a balloon with a wispy tail.  Her eyes mist. The balloon and yellow lollipop blur a bit. The way this entire day has blended in a perfect symphony of comforting nostalgia, healing release and budding joy, touches her heart and soul in a way she has never experienced. Compassion. Tenderness. Hope. Is it random alignment? She thinks not. Someone orchestrated this all for her. How well thought out and lovingly intimate are these little gifts she received today in her hometown.

Refilling the jug of Half ‘n Half, Dominic glances at the slight, brunette woman sitting by the window. He hasn’t seen her before and it being a small town, he notices. As he watches her looking at her coffee cup and the yellow lollipop she chose, he sees her eyes are over-bright and misted. There is deep emotion at play here and he feels like an intruder watching her.

As Meredith brushes past her on the way to the stock room, Dominic hears the woman tell Meredith how beautiful the foam balloon looks and how much she appreciates her decorating her coffee with something so precious.  Hmm. Interesting way to describe a foam design…

Dominic hears the woman push back her chair, and gather her purse, coffee, and lollipop. She stands a moment, then shyly approaches him.

“Hi, excuse me – where did you get these lollipops? I haven’t seen these in a long time. I know this sounds crazy, but they bring back good memories for me. I really needed that today. So, anyway, thanks.”

She hurries from the café and out onto the street. Dominic stands still for a few minutes taking in what she said. So, this is what the feelings of anticipation and purpose were about this morning; the reason these silly, spunky lollipops caught his eye, willing him to display them. Someone arranged this random encounter for a dark-haired woman who needed a reminder of good things and happy times. Standing in the middle of The Cuppa Café Dominic smiles to himself – I wondered who would stop by the café today. Who knew that latte foam and lollipops could be life changing?

Coming very soon…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone! I’m excited! My book is very close to being published; waiting on a proof copy of the paperback to arrive. Once I see it’s just how it should be, Divine Encounters…will go live on Amazon KDP (eBook and paperback), Kobo, Barnes and Noble Press and Google Play Books. Here is a sneak preview of the cover and blurb.

When it is out there and ready I will publish again with the links.

I can’t wait for her to be out in the world, doing what she was meant to do!

Roads and Rivers

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Isaiah 43:19 (MSG) “Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is! I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands.”

This is a favorite verse of mine. I love the themes of hope, adventure, new beginnings, and provision.

I tend to revisit the past and analyze it to death. I become consumed with situations, words spoken that hurt (either by me or to me), and actions that I fear will happen again and again. Isaiah’s words say to forget about reliving all that and be alert and present. I do not want to miss the brand-new things God is planning to do. God is not saying, “I’d like to do something new” or “I’m considering it”; no! He says, “I am about to do something brand-new!” It is a promise! I can feel His excitement breaking through when He says, “Don’t you see it? There it is!” The Lord is wild about us and loves the plans He has so masterfully created for us. I imagine it brings Him such pleasure to surprise us with His purpose for our lives and to whisper into our spirits, “this is the way, walk in it.”

If I stay tangled up in the past or worrying over the future, I will miss what He is doing right this minute. I want to fully experience the road He is making through my desert; the obstacles He will move and the ruts He will smooth over. Imagine looking back and seeing how it all unfolded! Some days it feels like I can’t find the road because there are too many off shoots and rabbit holes that distract and keep me spinning. If I stop, breathe, and give myself space and permission to spend time with Him, He reveals the path and gives wisdom about how to get back to it. He helps me over the ruts, around the boulders and through the brambles. He reveals the beauty that is there.

How bleak to miss the rushing river of blessings and revelation that He is creating in the badlands I often roam! How quickly I forget that water is the source of life. Where there is water, there is often beauty, refreshment, life, and provision. Jesus is my river in the badlands of humanity. He is beautiful, my strength, my peace; He refreshes my soul and provides everything I need. He is the source of life, and He is enough. How wise I would be if I lived with this mindset every day. So, let’s be alert! Let’s watch and wait on the Lord to see what He will do in our deserts and badlands. There is joy and beauty He wants to show us on our journey. May we live in watchful expectation.

Living Blessed

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

My coffee mug has the word Blessed inscribed across the front. The letters are big and bold, like a confident declaration.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I watch the morning unfold in my garden. There are a variety of birds at the feeders that sing as they jostle for position. They wait their turn, sometimes with nice attitudes and other times, not. Other birds scratch and scritch among the garden debris, ferreting out whatever treasures are hidden in the rich dirt. Watching these birds go about their daily business, I think about the word blessed. The dictionary says it means consecrated; holy; sacred; blissfully happy or contented. These words are beautiful. I want to be these words, feel, and live in these words.

Living and being blessed often seems elusive; like a thought or elevated idea that is difficult to truly capture. As I pondered this idea, I began to see that the word blessed is not a higher thought on a difficult to achieve spiritual plane.

Imagine a typical day – you wake up and grab your coffee in your favorite mug. Perhaps you watch the morning unfold in front of you on the patio with a soft breeze floating past, all kinds of sounds and scents in the air. What if you decided to be grateful that you are alive; able to see, smell and experience nature going about its business in the Divine order of things? Is that not sacred, bringing bliss and contentment? What if you witness a startling and unusual act of kindness causing you to pause, tear up and have your faith in humanity restored, if even for a moment? Is that not holy? Is that intersection of the Divine and the human, not sacred ground? I wonder, if when I’m making dinner, listening to music, or chatting with Jesus on a walk in my neighborhood, those places become sacred, holy, and divine. Blessed.

But… what if the day isn’t full of things that make me blissfully happy? The car accident that totals the car, the child who makes a poor choice and you see no clear way out of it. Maybe cruel words were hurled in the heat of the moment, and they can’t be taken back. Perhaps there is a diagnosis you never saw coming. Is there room here to declare “I am blessed?” Yes.

Some blessings come after the hurt and wounds. The Divine often shows up in miraculous ways, turning devastation into glory, failure into victory, wounding into strength and the impossible into something to be remembered in awe and reverence, because there seemed to be no good ending, yet there was.  To live blessed, we need to be alert and seek it out. It won’t always show up immediately. Blessings may not be dressed up in blissful happiness and a cute outfit. Blessings may come dirty, scuffed up, straggling and a bit off kilter, but will come. I have seen them come in both forms – equally holy, sacred, consecrated. Blessed.

I want to live expecting blessings; bloom where I am planted and thrive, no matter what it looks like. Holy, divine, sacred, and blissful happiness is all around us, waiting with open arms for us to slow down and seek it. What is sought will be found.

Meadow

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Standing at the edge of the alpine meadow my coffee mug is warm in my hands. A beautiful balance to the chill air. Ahhh…

Under the towering Sugar Pines, I take a few moments to soak in the first glimpse. My senses are awake and receptive drinking it in. There is a physical sensation of being pulled and beckoned, compelling me to go out in the meadow. This is my place. Belonging.

Leisurely walking the boardwalk, I notice the sights, sounds, and smells that make up this lovely place. Earthy, elemental, fresh yet ancient is what comes to mind. I pause to deeply breathe in the air, cleansed by so many Sugar Pines, Giant Sequoias and Cedars.

The meadow is already alive with creatures going about their business. The shiny black birds and bright, bold Tanagers call, dive, and swoop as they greet each other and share the meadow gossip. Flitting insects and seeds make up their breakfast. They light on the tip top of the purple-blue lupine, singing and swaying with the breeze that ruffles the meadow flowers and leafy plants. Joyful!

There is a greyed and hollowed out fallen tree with gnarled branches and bits of decayed roots lying across part of the meadow. A small tree is growing up from the edge of one of the dead branches. I wonder what creatures call the nooks and crannies home? Grass in varying shades of green, and bright yellow Sneezeweed, tiny white flowers and deep purple lupines have grown up around the old tree like an embrace. These colorful flowers create a gorgeous living carpet. Breathtaking.

Walking further in, I find the perfect spot to sit. Settling in, I am at peace. A feeling of being welcomed, rooted, and folded in, as if I belong here, in sync with the mystery and rhythm of the meadow. Connected.

I hear a rustling scurry in the clump of meadow flowers just below and to the left of my spot. A small grey-brown head peeks up and watches me, judging and spying. Deemed safe, the chipmunk darts across the boardwalk continuing his morning journey. I’m curious what the day holds for him/her. Purpose.

Trickling and whispering, the little meadow stream bubbles and flows out into the meadow. Tiny insects dip and float on the clear water. Other creatures scratch and rustle in the crowded marshy earth, searching for an appetizing addition to their breakfast.  I don’t know its source, but as the season pushes on the stream will slow and the water will pool, creating a new habitat that sustains those late summer and early fall plants, flowers, and creatures. Seasons.

The morning light filtered through the tree branches at the edge of the meadow casts a mysterious, divine glow, as the summer sun rises. The rays force their way between pinecone laden branches burnishing the meadow with a lemony, pure, white light. Each light ray is distinct and discernable, stretching out beyond the trees to touch a specific spot.  These bold rays are in sharp contrast to the meadow area still in shadows. The lighting produces an ethereal, other worldly feeling where one might fancy seeing a forest sprite or fairy, dancing and flitting through old growth and flowers. A supernatural spotlight.

The Divine is palpable and alive in this place. The Creator is here in this beautiful meadow. It is ancient ways, knowledge and mystery, the connection between living things and continuous rebirth.

The cool morning air is becoming warmer as the sun continues its climb. I have been out here for a while, feeling as one with nature and this meadow. The early morning creature energy is slowing to a lazier, relaxed pace, slipping into the routine and warmth of late morning and early afternoon.

It is time to get on with the day. I feel melancholy and wistful as my time in the meadow comes to an end for this trip. Life will go on uninterrupted after I head down the mountain. It is as if I’m leaving part of myself here with the meadow to be picked up at my next visit; to recharge and restore what life has depleted. Is it strange to feel so connected to a place?  

Divine connections and encounters are a blessing. It feels like hope.  I will treasure these sights, scents, and sounds until next time, when I sense the meadow’s welcoming arms and soothing call to come and sit a spell.

Sowing and Reaping

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Galatians 6:7-10 (The Message) “Don’t be misled: No one makes a fool of God. What a person plants, he will harvest. The person who plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others—ignoring God!—harvests a crop of weeds. All he’ll have to show for his life is weeds! But the one who plants in response to God, letting God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life. So, let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.”

While sipping my coffee early this morning I came across the above verse in Galatians. “What a person plants, he will harvest.” Hmm. The words “will harvest” do not give any wiggle room, do they? The Apostle Paul is not mincing words when he penned this verse. We WILL harvest what we plant. If we choose to plant acid words, toxic behavior, and selfishness, we WILL harvest these very things in our lives. The very things we desperately want to avoid. What are we planting, and do we like what that harvest will produce and reproduce?

Imagine with me a typical day. In this day, each of us have myriad opportunities to plant good things, but will we?

We wake up tired and irritated due to a sleepless night. We throw ourselves out of bed, mentally ticking off all the things we must do. Our tread is heavy and annoyed as we head to the kitchen for our coffee. Waiting for it to brew, we decide it is unfair that everyone else sleeps soundly in our house and we become increasingly irritated noticing dirty dishes in the sink. The injustice of it all makes us choose to be noisier than necessary as we prepare coffee, feed the animals, and shove the offending dishes around in the sink. Making noise that might wake up the sound sleepers, which it does. This pervasive annoyance follows and taints the rest of the morning as we get ready for the day. We already decided it is going to stink and be full of further difficulties and irritations. The seeds are planted, and we unknowingly begin harvesting. Our encounters with others will have a ripple effect with lasting repercussions.

Sitting at a stop light, we refuse to let another driver merge in front of us who found herself in the wrong lane; too bad for them we think. Our rude stare and aggressive driving make us feel justified yet intensifies our frustration. Our actions plant seeds of fear, defensiveness, and worry in the woman to whom we refused to give a seed of grace. This hurtful and frightening exchange will travel with her as she goes about her day, infecting everyone in her sphere. The ripple effect. It is powerful.

At the grocery store, our demeanor is aloof and unreachable. The older man in the aisle with us attempts a friendly chat about the soup he is going to make for his lunch and how he enjoys good bread with that soup. We refuse to engage and throw an insincere half-smile his way, mumble and forcefully steer our cart further down the aisle, leaving him wounded, rejected and humiliated. Who has time for idle blabbing when we are tired and annoyed? Ripples.

In the checkout line, we queue up behind a mom with two young kids. They are noisy and difficult. Arrogant and nasty, we loudly sigh, passive – aggressively showing offense and annoyance, exasperating an already frazzled Mama. She wonders if she is failing at mothering…more ripples. Sowing and reaping, the day goes on with anger, hopelessness, pain, and grief as our harvest. It is a vicious cycle and one we could have redeemed.

What might have happened had we chosen to plant different seeds? We might wake up tired and moody. We might not want to dig deep and change our perspective to view ourselves as gardeners to another’s soul. That is tiring and hard and counter intuitive. But…we can vent all that frustration and exhaustion to our Father who gives us strength and energy to plant seeds of hope, happiness, peace, and compassion. 

The irritating driver in the wrong lane is on her way to a Dr appointment that has her terrified and unable to concentrate for fear of test results. Planting seeds of compassion and kindness, by letting her in front of us with a friendly wave and smile, will vastly change the trajectory of her day. Our compassion might infuse her with peace, safety, and warm feelings of human kindness. A harvest of peace and compassion with lasting ripples.

The older man in the grocery store is suffering from deep grief and loneliness after the loss of his cherished wife. This was his first outing since her passing, and he simply needed to be seen, heard, and shown genuine kindness. By stopping to chat about how tasty soup and good bread can be, his loneliness is held at bay for a few minutes. Planting seeds of time, attention, kindness, and companionship grant him the confidence that he can do this; that he will be ok. He will know that he is seen, worth noticing and not a forgotten, old face in a sea of humanity. A harvest of compassion, healing and comfort that cost us a few moments.

The mom in the checkout line feels like a failure; like she cannot do this right and is not fit to be a mother. Planting seeds of compassion, encouragement, humor, and camaraderie in parenting let her know she is seen and understood, infusing her with confidence and patience with her children. Realizing she is doing a good job and is not alone and forgotten in this, will completely rework the tone and outcome of the day for her and her children.

We get to choose how we interact with those God places in our path. We choose what seeds we plant. It is a choice, and it is not an easy one. It takes asking the One who is perfectly unselfish, perfectly compassionate, full of mercy, loving and all wise, to give us His strength, discernment, and love.

I am grateful for the days that my family, friends and total strangers make the choice to plant good things into my soul. The smile from a stranger, the friendly exchange over berries in the produce aisle, the text “Hey, thinking of you today,” or an unexpected compliment on a day that is tough, carry so much weight. Bad days are transformed in minutes by someone with a heart full of good seeds, who takes a moment to plant a few in mine. These seed planters will reap a harvest of goodness, generosity, compassion and hope with the potential to reproduce one hundred-fold. This is the garden I want to be known for; one that produces good and makes a positive dent in my little sphere.

My Garden

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

My garden is a quiet place; a tranquil oasis that beckons when my mind and body are overwhelmed, parched and in need of peace.  The haphazard, random way I choose the spot for each plant may feel a bit chaotic to the more organized and regimented soul, but for me, I find immense peace and joy in the random and untamed order of it all. There is peace and rest in the chaos. 

The purple Catmint and Lantana along with the bright yellow Yarrow are a riot of tumbling blooms that spread as they wish; seeming to luxuriate in their boldness to overtake what they will. The white Guara, reaching high, looks like little butterflies dancing about on the wavy stems. The gentle Lavender is unassuming and lovely yet dominates its corner of the garden. The Sage, Fuchsia, Freesia, Primrose, and Geranium show off gorgeous splashes of purples, reds, pinks, and yellows, while the stately ferns are calming with their greenery.  A favorite scent of Jasmine wafts on the air as it climbs the fence and trellis.

There are fairies, angels, memorials to beloved pets and random garden décor that also grace my garden. Seeing them peeking out from around a mass of flowers makes me smile. The unexpected amid chaos and beauty…

Chattering and bubbly, the 3-tier fountain splashes and soothes; water cascading down the pineapple top tier, beckoning birds to take a sip and a bath. It’s calming to watch and listen as they bathe, call, and survey the garden, hunting for choice grubs and seeds. Two more birdbaths are placed throughout the yard to host birds, as well as squirrels, opossums, bees, and the occasional neighborhood cat.

The tall, purple-bloomed Butterfly Bush and the Fuji apple tree provide shade for the stone bench underneath their branches. It’s in another part of the garden which provides a different perspective; one can feel hidden, and a bit removed while resting there.

When it’s time to do some pruning, the honeybees and large black and yellow bumblebees allow me access to their plants while keeping a sharp eye on my activity.  Some fly up near my head and hover there, inspecting me and gauging my intentions. Respect and harmony in the garden.

Sitting at the wood picnic table I watch all the garden life and activity. Nourishment, community, rest, and safety happen here, as God’s creatures bathe, pollinate, eat, and gossip, doing what they were made to do. I love being part of it all, in my little slice of nature.

Perhaps if you close your eyes, you will hear the chatter of the birds as they gossip, sip and search for breakfast along the fence and under the flowers. Maybe you will discover a hidden fairy or turtle and see the busy bees flitting with purpose from bloom to bloom. The perky splash of the 3-tiered fountain might soothe and restore peace to your soul. Some of the heaviness you carry might lift, as you listen to the bold, russet squirrels scolding the big, black crows over peanuts; the scent of Jasmine swirling around you on the puffy breeze.

The tinkling wind chimes add their flavor of peace, as all the elements of the garden blend beautifully, order yet chaos, to bring serenity and restoration to a tired soul. The Creator uses this small oasis, in the middle of a neighborhood, to blend the right mix of joy, rest, peace and chuckles at creature antics to refresh and restore the spirit. Now it’s time to begin the day and hide in my heart the peace and refreshment I found in my garden.