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Siblings Forever

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"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside a touch of time." - Clara Ortega. "We know one another's faults, virtues, catastrophes, mortifications, triumphs, rivalries, desires, and how long we can each hang by our hands to a bar. We have been banded together under pack codes and tribal laws." - Rose Macaulay. At the start of the year, I was thinking about this as I wrote down some things I am grateful for in my gratitude journal and found myself giving thanks for my brother.  Rob, 3 years younger than me, has a  unique and precious  place in my life and heart --tomorrow is his birthday. Our lives have run parallel for 68 years. There is a set of photos taken on a summer's day, long ago. They always make me smile and also feel sorry for

Saturday Morning

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  I savour the tang of hot, strong, black coffee from one of my favourite mugs--the one that glows with the colours of a Tom Thomson painting. The scent of a spiced apple candle lingers. Classical music plays in the background to the strong, firm metronome of our treasured, oak-encased wall-clock; its swinging pendulum the heartbeat of our home.

The Price and the Prize

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 Weeding disturbs the soil, and pruning opens up an area that will need to heal over--but without them, neither land nor tree is as fruitful as it can be. Therefore I am willing to endure discomfort--and more than that, I embrace it as necessary for growth in life and grace. I wrote these words about ten years ago and found them today, just when I needed them, as I flipped through an old journal. I don't love change. Its antonyms: stay, rest, remain--they attract me, not disruption--the price of change. Change is oxygen to some people's souls--not to mine.  But when I consider the prize--greater fruitfulness--my soul settles into peace, and I say, yes, weed--yes, prune, stir up my serene pond--even if I love it here. 

Christmas Amaryllis 2021

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  From earth-bound bulb shoots life--sturdy, limber, vibrant and beautiful--flawless, yet fleeting and fragile. "See me and gaze awestruck," she seems to trumpet, a messenger, saying, "My purity and perfection is a glimpse, existing only for a moment. There is more than this world bound by time. In eternity there is no limit or decay to sully beauty or truth. Look at me, and see beyond ."
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The wind rushed through trees, shrubs, and brush today—one minute turbulent as the ocean in a storm, the next soft as a brush on drumskin. I wandered our hamlet in as much awe as I once wandered the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. I stooped, squatted, stared and squinted my way through my walk. In the presence of so much glory, how could I be anything by attentive and enraptured? This morning, sin would have been to heed the call of duty instead of the call of beauty. Humans are so like leaves in the brevity of our bodily existence and we were made to interact with our Creator’s work as joyfully as leaves dance in the wind.

Autumn Walk

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  I have been so busy that I've missed walking for a while. Meanwhile, nature changed out of her pretty summer dress into a russet robe, accented with burgundy, flaming salmon, and gold. Today, I walked to the soft maracas beat of clattering, chattering leaves, which spiralled through the air in a dizzy dance! A humble earthbound human , I crunched through the new land of Fall that had unfolded in my absence!

Morning Walk

  Gratitude--for the moment I looked up at the sky this morning; at the deepest, clearest blueness, with a swathe of marshmallow cloudlets. And for the utterly relaxed dove, looking around from the wire above me. I stopped and gazed up at her tiny pink feet, surrounded by her fluffy feathers as she rested on them, her head cocking slightly as she looked back at me. Her shining eyes took in the awestruck human below, looking up at Her Fluffiness.