childhood

Memories

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

All is quiet this morning in the forest and meadow surrounding the cabin. A gentle breath of wind shushes through the meadow grasses and whispers through the pine branches.

Pinks and orangey yellow streaks are breaking just above the treetops announcing that the sun is on its way. Nature’s alarm clock. Soon the morning creatures will stir, scout, and begin their breakfast journeys.

Warming pine and that distinctive mountain scent wafts and swirls in the chill morning air, reminding me of long-ago summer mornings at a favorite campground in the mountains. I can see, hear, and smell it all in my mind – the bossy scrub jays shouting and squawking as they flit from tree to tree, cocking an alert black eye at the wooden table in case some of the breakfast fixings tumble off. The smokey scent of the testy, cold campfire that fights to get going again in the morning, reminds me of my dad who would mess with it until it was hot and roaring, so we could toast crescent rolls on a stick over the fire.

My steamy coffee warms my chilled hands, as I sit on the deck overlooking the drowsy meadow. The sun is higher now and beautiful streaks of sunlight boldly push through the tree branches. The rays of light are ethereal and sacred; the Creator at work bringing beauty to the morning. The way the light beams fall on the meadow and through the trees reminds me of times spent hiking – just He and I – where hurts and wounds were poured out in raw honesty as Truth and Healing flooded in to soothe, heal, and mend what was broken. Divine encounters.

Breakfast accompanies me to the deck. The homey scent of pancakes, bacon, and coffee mingling with the scent of pine, sparks a memory of my grandma making breakfast on a Saturday morning. The scent of pine trees was always present and is a treasured undercurrent to my memories of her. How happy and exciting it felt to be in her home, surrounded by woods, good food and the squirrels’ feet pattering across the roof. Safe. Home. Content.

The sun is making its way across the sky, so it’s time for a hike to the lake to see who is stirring and fussing about this morning. Always an adventure!

The strewn pine needles are soft and comfy underfoot. Cracks and twig-snaps along the edges of the trail accompany me as I make my way along the well-worn path.  The rustling and murmurs of the woods is comforting and peaceful. Nature is quiet, but it’s not. Calm and restful, yet busy and purposeful as birds and watchful animals go about their business.

The lake will peek into view around this next bend in the path. The familiarity invites a feeling of nostalgia – wistful happiness with a tinge melancholy that doesn’t want to be overlooked and dismissed – wishing that time would stop so the safety and peace of the memories would live on and on, drowning out the stress, noise and unknown of what’s ahead.

There it is – the lake! Life is in full swing here with ducks and geese gliding along the smooth water, snipping at bugs, and nibbling on grasses along the shore. Their contented chuckles and fussing drift over the water as they chat over their breakfast.

A creature rambling through the reeds searching for a snack makes slippery, muddy sounds along the bank near an ancient tree. A long-abandoned rope swing, frayed, tattered and limp tosses meekly in the light breeze that’s beginning to ruffle the water.

Sitting under the shady branches with the fishy, watery scent of the lake breeze fluffing my hair, I recall the excitement of fishing at another lake in the mountains with my grandpa. The careful choosing of bait, adding the weights and a bright red bobber. Time seemed to slow as the line was cast, reeled, and repeated over the course of a warm summer afternoon – the same breeze with an earthy, fishy lake water scent keeping the worst of the heat at bay. The memory of it makes me smile.

Feeling dozy, I lie back on the blanket I brought and close my eyes for a spell. The earthiness of the lake combined with the close warmth of the afternoon fills my mind with much needed peace and I nap for a bit, letting childhood memories of cloud watching and camping take me away.

Startled awake by the fussy chatter of a grey squirrel in the branches above, I stretch, gather up my things and head back to the cabin. What a beautiful way to spend a lazy afternoon. Looking to the sky, I see the sun beginning to make its descent.

Relaxing on the deck after a quick dinner of grilled chicken and homemade potato salad, I sip a lovely cup of herbal tea as the sun showcases it final burst of color before setting behind the treetops.

The forest and meadow quiet into evening and the first pinprick of stars make their appearance. As the night gentles and cools, I grab an old quilt off the chair. It feels safe to be wrapped up and warm this chilly evening. There are unknowns, mysteries and strange sounds that move around me in the now dark forest, but I don’t feel afraid. Gazing up at the stars, a familiar feeling of being deeply loved washes over me. You created these stars and heavenly bodies, placing them just so in the night sky – giving direction to the weary traveler and bringing light to one who feels lost. When I felt tiny and insignificant in a vast sea of humanity, You reached out to me with lovely bursts of light breaking through the darkness and spoke to my soul of hope, purpose, and safety. You still see me. The lovely carpet of stars in the dark night sky continues to speak of love, peace, and warmth on the quiet deck of a cabin in the woods. Beautiful memories of healing, redemption and above all, hope.

Nostalgia

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

It’s going to be another hot day, so I’m up early.  I head to the patio and warm coffee comes with me. There is a slight chill, oh so slight, but I can feel it on my skin.

There is something vague and wistful in the way the air feels this morning. The hint of the warmth that’s to come, mixed in with that slight chill. It feels so familiar.

It’s the way the light is coming up over the apple tree, shadows from the branches falling just so on the green grass and touching the edges of the 3-tiered fountain. The yellowy-white light pulls at my memory; I’ve seen this light before. I know it.

I hear it in the way the finches, bold blue jays and grey titmouse call and chatter. Fuzzy squirrels scampering and digging in the grass and garden tug at something hovering in my mind.

The scent in the air has a subtle, comforting, reminiscent quality to it that dances on the fringe of memory. It’s happy and calming; stirring up a sentimental longing and wistful affection for something… Is it a specific memory or snippets of various memories stirred up by the sight, sound, scent of this peaceful morning? I wonder…

Sitting here at the pine table I allow my thoughts go where they will.

The scent in the air, the light and the creature sounds call up memories of my grandparents’ house in Lakehead, CA. I loved this place! It was nestled in and around pine trees with squirrels and birds galore! I recall the warm, safe scent of those pine trees, the dusty earth, and bubbling excitement of walking through the wooded area to the little market with my grandma. Exciting!

In the warm afternoons, the blue kiddie pool was set up in the backyard under some shady pine trees. Buckets, cups, Barbies, and various other toys made for a fun and easy afternoon. I think time stood still for a bit. My grandma sat in the shade on her 70’s era lawn chair with a sweating glass of sweet tea and chatted with me. Always the safe, old, lovely scent of warm pine and earth.

I remember the thrill and exhilaration of hurtling down a big hill near their house in my little red wagon with the pine-y wind in my face – what a memory of freedom and adventures. I looked forward to the summer-night strolls to visit neighbors and see a few deer as we walked along. Pleasant and friendly.

The sound of scampering squirrels on my fence reminds me of hearing pattering squirrel feet run over the roof of their house and my grandpa’s garage in the early mornings. The garage was a wonderful place. It was full of gadgets, boxes of nails and rakes, the fishing gear, and all sorts of fun things to play with and examine. It had the distinct smell of cars and a tangy scent of oil and gasoline. Order and routine, everything in its place.

I can smell the fishy, earthy, watery scent of Lake Shasta where my grandpa, my Dad and I spent many hours on his boat fishing and motoring around the lake, stopping in the small, quiet coves to cool off and swim. Even in the summer heat, there was the distinct lake chill that danced above the water. Dinner of fresh caught fish back at the house gave me such a warm, cozy, homey feeling. We sat and ate on the enclosed porch at the picnic table, talking and laughing about the highlights of the day. As the adults talked on into the summer night, I would drowse and day dream.

Yes, these are cherished memories. Interesting how a subtle scent on the air, a ray of sunlight and nature sounds have the power to trigger the mind and bring these memories flooding back.

I wish I could go back to relive those parts of life to recapture the feelings and sensations. Happy memories of pleasant times where life seemed simpler, sweeter, and not so complex. I often feel this way around the holidays as I look at old pictures of my family gathered around a festive table, carving a pumpkin, or sitting by the Christmas tree.  When I look at paintings of the holidays in times past, there is a wistful, yearning feeling of wanting to be there. Nostalgia.

Life can be chaotic and unpredictable. I wonder if our adult brains unconsciously seek out the sights, scents, and sounds of those times where things were ordered, reliable, safe, and predictable. I think God wired us to treasure and preserve those moments. We can pull them from our heart-memories as a comfort and break from the monotony and loneliness of life. Blessings.

I think I will pray that nostalgia visits me often, like an old, dear friend; full of comfort, comradery, and memories to make me smile. What a gift!

Something About the Rain

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

There’s something lovely about the rain, isn’t there? That moment when the first anticipated drops touch your face, hair, eyes.  Refreshing. It brings joy, despite a fully or partially cloud-hidden sun, trying to peep through. You know it’s there, the sun, but it’s hidden. It’s a bit mysterious to wonder what the sun might be up to up there, veiled from sight.

Or hearing those first drops on the patio cover in the wee morning hours; pattering, plopping; like a sky-song flowing down. So soothing, as I lie in bed. The blankets covering me, I am enveloped in warmth and safety, listening to nature’s lullaby.

Sometimes the dreary sky and rain damp air offers the unmistakable scent of clean; washed and rinsed; a sort of gentle, yet sometimes fierce and unrelenting, opening of the heavens; as if Creator is gifting a new start, a clean slate. All is well, the old is gone and here is the new.  Life giving water. Living water. Ancient and elemental.

The sound of the faithful pattering, dripping and beating of a good steady rain soothes and gentles the spirit and often my hectic mind, with nature’s rhythms; like an intentional chorus put on repeat. Truly one of my favorite sounds and scents.

Something about the rain dredges up childhood memories of wildly exciting, yet terrifying thunder and lightning storms, windows rattling and trembling. Such an electric feeling of exhilaration and fear, joy and safety; intertwining emotions that shouldn’t mix well together, but they do, when nature moves and does her thing. It is deep and wild. I love it.

Memories drift up of hot summer days, when a sudden rain storm cools and refreshes with the unforgettable scent of rain on hot sidewalks. That is childhood.

Something about the rain and wind and the slashing at trees, rose bushes and the apple tree reminds me that not everything in life is predictable and controllable. It’s not tamable and quieted and soothed, but roars and bucks and thrashes at the whim of the One who commands it. There is such beauty and raw power there. It is thrilling and terrifying; beautiful and fierce and unrelenting as it does the Creator’s bidding, yet it draws me in. Nature, all of it, in its pure undiluted elemental form, nourishes my soul like nothing else. It’s a God-gift I treasure and ponder. The mystery of it speaks depth to my soul. I will never get enough of it. There is just something about the rain…