New Life

 

Original Photo by Cecilia Marie Pulliam

For the first time in over a week, I slept past 4 am. Energized, my mind whirled with plans until I opened the blinds. My thoughts stilled.

Lemon colored sunshine and sparkling dew bathed the hot pink phlox and emerald grass. Five pelicans glide through a cerulean sky. A chorus of birds sing from the cherry tree. It seems only yesterday the world was brown and gray and now it’s rippling with new life. I can’t tear my eyes away.

How many of us can ignore a beautiful sunrise or sunset? I believe they are God’s way of encouraging us to pause in our activities and thank Him for all of His gifts.

Clouds have now obscured the sun, but the bright spring colors are still there, shimmering in the gloom. Isn’t that what joy does, glistens in difficult circumstances, long after happiness flees?  

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of this new day, this new life. For aren’t we reborn each day? It’s a blank page and yet already filled with Your love, encouragement, and compassion. I can never give enough thanks, but I will offer all that I am. Amen.

I See A Patch of Sun

Remember the old adage, "Which do you want first? The good news or the bad news?" It appears my family was given the bad news first. 

As I wrote in an earlier post, Troubled Water, my family received devastating news a few weeks ago. As shocking and hurtful as that was it psychologically set us up for deeper rejoicing. Nothing like being literally snatched from the brink of a horrifying abyss to intensify your jubilation.

First, the doctor's believe my dad's cancer is very slow growing. He will most likely die of old age before the cancer ever becomes an issue. Second, although his vision is diminished from macular degeneration, exhaustive tests show it is not likely to progress any further. Even better, his opthamologist did not feel required to revoke my dad's driver's license. His vision remains sharp enough to continue driving in daylight hours. Being restricted from night driving is a small inconvenience compared to not driving at all, or going totally blind. We are rejoicing. 

As for my mother, they are reasonably sure her issues are not related to cancer, but to Ciliac disease. According to the disorder's website the disease is an autoimmune digestive disease that damages the villi of the small intestine and interferes with the absorption of nutrients from food. Essentially, the body is attacking itself every time a person with celiac consumes gluten. The end result, if not treated, the victim literally starves to death. Diet is the only, and most effective, treatment. 

Blood tests confirm the diagnosis, and we should know for certain by next week. I n the meantime, Mother has already started the diet. Thankfully local grocery stores now carry an abundance of gluten free foods. We are tentatively rejoicing over this bit of news.

My job situation is unchanged, but it pales in comparison to the other issues, and there I must trust God. Matthew 17:20 was listed in my readings this morning:

If you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, move, and it will move, and nothing will be impossible to you. 

Streams in the Desert quotes from the book of Habakkuk 3:17-18: Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in  God my savior. 

Added to this is a poem by Eben Eugen Rexford. The last verse: When the storm cloud darkens, it's the TIME to sing. 

And so, I am singing, maybe a little off key, but God doesn't mind. He hears the music as it comes straight from my heart.