The Noticer

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The Noticer

It was in the fall that I noticed. Again. But it was different this time. The yard had been raked in a suburban monochromatic sweeping. Overly antiseptic. The way the neighbors might  approve. But in a way that appears boring. Void of creativity. The kind spilled out from heaven. Released, unfurled by the hand of Artist God.

And it was then that I noticed. The brushing aside. Made manifest in my yard. A physical representation in the form of dead leaves. Brittle. That heart of God on my yard. The mosaic, the fallen tapestry of gold, sienna, burnt orange pieces had been raked up. Msn moved the art of God. There on the canvas of my autumn day, a mosaic laid in love was moved in uncaring haste. To sanitize. To bring man-made order.

The leaves had fallen just so, placed, by a holy hand. The Creator had, was it by design, offered a masterpiece of autumnal muted hues, surrounding me with glory come down. And we, in an effort to re-create our own standard of beauty, had brushed it aside. It was then that I noticed. What a mistake the rearranging might have been. I saw, what it feels like to be invisible.

To be brushed aside.

And I am touched by holy noticing, once again.

Thankful for the nuances of ordinary life. The subtlety of beauty. And the generosity of the Giver. And the gentle reminder, to notice.

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Joining Jen at SDG

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Bliss, Whimsy, and Wonder(Autumn Is A Lady)

When Autumn rolls around in the deep South
Sometimes you get to crack a window.
Sometimes you get to raise it high
At night in the fall, every now and
Again.
Every once in a blue moon, you cut off the air
And breathe in the fresh,
At night
In the South sometimes.
And if you do
And when you do
You enter a Lewis Carroll world of wonder
And whimsy resides in the night and in the dawn.
In the South after summer when the fall rolls around
Like a big sweaty mess she arrives.
But sometimes she sits still
Long enough to cool off and breathe deep
A touch of crisp
Fall air
Blowing in the window raised high
Or even two up to catch the wonder, catch the breeze
Hear the whimsy in the morning
Like Alice.
Wipes the dew off her brow, we don’t sweat, we Southern women
And Autumn is a lady.
Fanning herself in the cool of the evening, sipping tea
And blowing her fresh air through the curtains,
Billowing, white cotton- grandmother’s.
There is a feathered one there at dark early, dark thirty.
He sounds like a feathered stand up, doing his best to sound
Like a bird.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Truth is its a bird chirping out bird morse code
In the dark, in the wonder, in the whimsy.
Truth is he sounds more like a psalmist
Announcing the new mercy of the morning
In the cool, in the dark, in the deep South.
Truth is he invites by proclamation.
Come wander in wonder and wade in whimsy
And see what new awaits
In the cool in the fall in the South.
He made, He invites, He extends
A walk into new, a journey
with Him
On the trail of the psalmist bird, dropped
Like breadcrumbs, wooing us
To the wonder of it all.
When Autumn rolls around in the deep
In the South
At His command.
And the small feathered ones
Seem to always know first,
As they call us out
Of the sleepy
Place,
And wake us up to wonder.

Summer Gives Her Window Seat to Fall


{Photograph courtesy of H.M. Miller, my friend, her art, a gift. I receive with humility and gratitude.}

Sitting at the edge of change. And a racing heart competes with a flood of salty wet.

Soaking in on the edge of change. And the Beautiful now wrestles with the pregnant possibilities of tomorrow’s new.

Teetering on the edge of change. And the Uncertain and the Unknowing play rock, paper, scissors with the potential outcome.

Dreaming on the edge of change. And Hope and Trust dance together… a beautiful pas de deux of love.

Anchoring the soul on the edge of change. And Faith rests knowing that the days are numbered and the battles are won.

Abiding on the edge of change. And relationship with Him secures the fretting heart and fixes the soul eyes squarely on the One who knows.

Embracing change on the edge. Surrendering to change on the edge. Loving change while tip-toeing around and on the edge.

Sleeping soundly on the edge with Change. While Summer gives her window seat to Autumn. And the window is rolled all the way down.

Linking today with Joy here and here.