the art of taking note
wishing for you eyes to see
the detail of the day,
in all its wonder,
in all its glory,
with all its elements of surprise,
with eyes that look through a lense of beauty
into a world,
covered by Grace
Designed in Love.
And may you be awake in each moment
intent on discovery
at every turn, every step, and with every breathe.
And may Love look new and His Grace cover you fresh,
this one glorious day,
Today.
linking with Sandra Heska King today at Still Saturday
Don’t forget to pray today because God did not forget to wake you up this morning.
–Oswald Chambers
Prayer is simple, prayer is supernatural, and to anyone not related to our Lord Jesus Christ, prayer is apt to look stupid.
–Oswald Chambers
If I obey Jesus Christ in the seemingly random circumstances of life, they become pinholes through which I see the face of God.
–Oswald Chambers
{ all photographs taken by wynnegraceappears and while a watermark is not present, they are a part of this blog. Thank you for your consideration.}
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wishing grace on this Sabbath and for all to be beautiful, after the rain.
We have a little family joke that started with my grandmother. She would ooohhh and aaah at every gift that was opened at Christmas and any and all special occasions. It was delightful behavior to be around as a child.
Pure joy. Pure excitement. Unrestrained rejoicing.
She, my Gama, was a child of the Great Depression. One of thirteen children, she was appreciative of everything. So when the bows and the wrapping were thoughtlessly tossed aside, she would gather up the bows and salvage any of the wrapping she could. She’d gather and save.
And as each gift was revealed she would say, with her beautiful big smile and her beautiful big eyes, oooh and then aaaah. She just simply delighted in the gift and the moment. Large. Small. Modest. Simple.
The gift didn’t matter. It was just the moment and the exchange, ever so small between family.
So we adopted this custom. Truthfully we poke mild fun at her dramatic response as we have family fun ooohing and aahhing over the unwrapping of gifts. We remember her. Her joy.
But truly, isn’t life more fun when we celebrate the small unwrappings. Delighting in the small things that border on just mundane. When we celebrate small milestones, or small joys. When we take a moment to rest in a moment of beauty.
Breaking out a smile, broad and wide, all toothy and glistening over a kind remark from a devoted friend, a text of encouragement or endearment from a woman who walks out life with you, an email that says simply. ” I am missing you terribly.”
Aren’t these moments worth busting out cheerfulness and joyfulness.
I delivered news this morning to a friend which I felt would disappoint and maybe cause her to feel that I had let her down. Her response was one of affirmation. You are choosing rightly, you are doing as you should, go and enjoy and have fun. This is important, she says to me.
We have been deep cleaning and spring cleaning my house. I look on the fruits of the shared labor, and smell the clean, and see some progress toward de-cluttering. I smile and say this is good. This is better. I am encouraged.
Such small things often delight the heart. And they are worth taking a moment to say, “This is good.” To give it a simple label of “nice” or “good” or “beautiful” or “kind”. To release an ooh or an aahh over a favorite meal when fellowshipping with family or friends. This is good. This is yummy.
Finding the moments that are gifts of life, ever so small and allowing them to be named as good. To savor for more than a second.
This morning for me it was the smell of cut grass. They say that the sense of smell is the memory which we hold on to the longest. I don’t know if that is true, but a wave of memories poured into my bedroom and delighted my soul as I thought of times that were good as fragrant cut grass stimulated my memories, all tucked away and resting.
Words were said. There was a disagreement. I would not have won any mother of the year awards for my part, for my responses to the situation. But in a moment of reconciliation my child told me how very much he loves me.
I was humbled. I am deeply touched by a love that forgives and works through and doesn’t stay stuck. This is good. This is healing. I stop and say this is unexpected grace.
I am looking for things to celebrate this weekend. We are cheerfully and happily celebrating a graduation of a precious young woman in our life. We love her so and we rejoice at this milestone.
But I am looking to rejoice in the small things too. The little oooh’s and the little aaah’s. The shell on the beach, the giggle around the table, the crisp spring air with birds singing overtime, a clean fresh start for some places in my home, a comment in love, a comment in friendship, a word of encouragement. A gesture toward forgiveness. A gesture toward healing. A word of praise. A word of thanksgiving.
I am seeking to rejoice in all that He gives. And while I don’t have my Gama’s eyes which saw the world so differently than I, I can seek to see what the Lord has placed before me as blessing and gift.
The tide comes in, the tide goes out. The bumps and bruises and dust ups in life will come and go. But I choose today to look for joy.
Will you join me. Won’t you join me. It’s more fun doing life together.
Wonderful Weekend Full Of Grace, to you all.
And may you ooooh and aahh all weekend long at all the joy that comes your way.
Blessings….
wynnegraceappears
This is a story of yesterday.
And actually the day before yesterday too.
I drive to another zipcode to grocery shop. I know thats shocking for a one-zip-code dweller. And I stroll down the isle of the frozen things. The day before yesterday part of the story goes like this. My family had a very odd on-the-way-to-church conversation on Sunday. It was all about crazy coupon shopping. There is a name or a title or a badge of honor that goes with that skill. The Patient-One wants me to do this. This is not the current me. Might be the me he wants me to be. Going to another zipcode to shop in a much less expensive grocery store was part of me trying to be more cost aware.
The isles are quiet. Very quiet and calm. There was almost an echo. Monday must not be the day for all the mad coupon mommas. I digress. That story stays in the former paragraph.
And I hear a beautiful story. I hear a painting and I hear a poem. I hear art. The eyes of my heart hear a sliver of a life story. They see the art in the life moment.
The words were tender. The transaction between two men was small but it was huge. Beauty in the moment. Threads of life weaving between two men. One young. One old. Both working on this day.
I slow down. I am captured by their sweet interaction. I am moved by the exchange. This life transaction tendered before my ears and eyes touches place in me.
Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering — Winnie The Pooh
Take a life slice, stab it with your fork, place it on the taste buds at the tippy of your tongue. And savor. Move it around from the sweet to the savory, those buds that register different flavors. Suck long and suck hard. Make them last for a long forever.
Pick up the paint brush of your inner knowing and paint a picture of the life you see. Record it in a place for keeps. So you can know you lived. Know you live. Remember the all. The glorious and the unglorious. All the parts and pieces of the mosaic that is yours. Your one. Your only. Your life.
One isle over I see my special friends mother. I am not a good friend. I don’t mentor well. I have not returned her child’s call. I say I missed Quailla’s call. She smiles and tells me all good things. I think. I believe it to be good. The fact that there are changes. I send my love. And I bury my guilt in the knowing that they seem well. I hear of spring break and a trip and new things. And we smile. This time between two mothers. And we talk about one child. I celebrate spontaneously in this isle. I don’t know its name. But its a good place to celebrate change.
Go grab a pen. Be your historian of your one life. Scribble it down and put it in a place for safekeeping. Jot it down all messy and real, its yours. Give it a grand heros welcome. Roll out the red carpet for it, for them. Memory will take good care of all that is preserved. Guard it all. Guard it well.
And the bees were next. Lots and lots of bees.
Look and see all the bees.
I took pictures of bees and more.
They are there for you to see. ( Dr. Seuss may be creeping in. Oh my. First Pooh then Dr. Seuss. smiling here)
And there were words. Some were good and sweet and tender. And some were not. Some gave encouragement and were life affirming. But I take the all and I mix it, blend it, taste it, and name it mine. There were moments that taught and words that cut. There was a blur of beauty and a swirl of pain. There were pronouncements of new birth coming from across the way in the house looking out in Hope and new life.
The end.
Not really. Its not the end of the story. Its Tuesday. And Tuesday has a story of her own to tell.
elizabeth w. marshall 