All is Well

Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well ~ John Greenleaf Whittier

The Birds

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It being a cool night—-is fall here?—-I opted to open all the windows last night to let the fresh, crisp air in. I didn’t count on,  (cue scary music) The Birds.

Early this morning before the sun had even begun to rise, I heard the strangest noise outside.  I did my best to ignore it, though it was quite distracting.  It sounded as if someone were on my roof, throwing pennies from my roof onto my air conditioning unit.  Ping, Ping, Ping.  And much rustling of leaves.  I briefly wondered if my 80 some-odd year landlord had taken it upon himself to clean out the gutters at 5:30 AM.
As the sun started to rise and I could see better, I ventured a look out my window.  There, in my backyard, were hundreds and hundreds of black birds.  They were every where–on my roof, on my deck (pooping) and in my yard.  On my shed and in the trees.  And they were feasting on acorns, then proceeding to throw the shells down.  It was raining acorns.  I’m sure if someone had been standing under the tree, they would have received an acorn concussion.
So, in tribute to my not-so-fine feathered friends, I turn to a mash-up of Hitchcock’s The Birds.  Still one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen.

Old Books and Jesus and Prayer

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I’m currently reading The Life of God in the Soul of Man by Henry Scougal.  This book, first published in 1868, is a balm to the soul.  The rich use of language, the careful yet uninhibited phrasings cause my mind to want more of the same—-a breath of fresh air in a volume that in it’s original form is quite possible falling apart, yellowed with age and dust.

Just read this paragraph on my Jesus and prayer:

“Another instance of his {Jesus’} love to God, was, his delight in conversing with him; which made him frequently retire from the world, and with the greatest devotion and pleasure spend whole nights in that heavenly exercise, though he had no sins to confess, and but few secular interests to pray for; which alas! are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to our devotions.  Nay, we may say his whoe life was a kind of prayer, a constant course of communion with God; if the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the fire still kept alife: nor was ever the blessed Jesus surprised with that dullness or tepidity of spirit which we must many times wrestle with before we can be fit for the exercise of devotion”


It’s true that it is more challenging to read the use of English language in the past, however it is not quite as daunting as one might think.  In fact, the experience of reading such can become more rather than less fulfilling, because in order to make our 21st century minds process such sentences and paragraphs, we must slow down our reading and savor the words.

A friend pointed out recently the forward of another “old book” that is also a balm, a salve to the soul.  The title is The Bruised Reed by Richard Sibbes.  Below is an excerpt from the publisher’s forward to that volume:

“Our books may come to be seen where ourselves shall never be heard.  These may preach where the author cannot, and (which is more) when he is not.”  This prediction by one of the great Puritans has had many fulfillments….As Luther said, “Satan hates the use of pens,”…….Although the orginal volumes are worn with age, the truths found in them are as fresh as the new formats in which they are now appearing.” 

Luke 12:21-34

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22 And he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. 

23 For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 

25 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?26 If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? 

27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 

28 But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! 

29 And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. 

30 For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. 

31 Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you. 

32 “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 

33 Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. 

34 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. 


"Lofty" Experiences

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What a strange morning this has been.  It’s moving day in the Duffer household—so many details to attend to, things to finish up, phone calls to make.  And it’s already been a very, very strange night.

After driving to the local gas station at 3 AM and picking up a 60 year old lady hitchhiker (that’s another story for another time) I proceeded to make my way back home in order to complete my packing tasks.

It was time to tackle the loft.

See, we have a fantastic loft in this garage.  It has held Christmas and Winter clothes, photo albums and baseball cards.  But in the middle of the night, I decided it was finally time to take inventory and make sure things were labeled for the move.

Now, I am not one that is afraid of heights.  I love heights, the higher the better.  However I am one that God has not seen fit to dole out balance nor physical grace to.  I am a clydesdale living in a thoroughbred’s world.

I easily climbed our very tall, very shaky A-Frame ladder and maneuvered my way onto the loft.  YES!  It held me! (Up until now, I’ve only sent children up there to do my bidding).  I labeled and sorted, labeled and sorted, until the contents of the loft were move ready.

I made my way back to the ladder.  Slowly I inched myself over the edge, searching for the first rung of the ladder.  (For further information, see my post on falling off of a horse.  I was not going to make THAT mistake this time).

But alas, my foot did not find purchase.  I was unable to get my body to bend at the angle necessary in order to descend the ladder.  What now, Reepicheep??

My children were all in the house, sound asleep.  But in a futile attempt to save myself, I pounded on the wall of the garage.  I hoped that one would hear and come to their mother’s rescue.  Nope.  No one was stirring, not even a mouse. (I saw plenty of spiders stirring though)

What was I to do?  I knew men’s Tuesday Morning breakfast at the church would begin at 6, but I also knew that I could yell and yell “Help!” and the likelihood of one of them hearing and coming to my aid was slim to none.  There was no way to jump.  And the ladder stood there and mocked me, with it’s bent rungs and unstable legs.

But, least you think that I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box, I had an epiphany.  If I turned the dang ladder around, I’d probably be able to step out to it and climb down safely.  I am nothing if not brilliant.

So, I mustered my strength, picked up the ladder and spun it around.  Success.  Now would the shaky thing hold me as I stepped WAY out to it?

I know, the anticipation is killing you.

Well, silly obviously I made it down and lived to write this tale.
I promise you, these things only happen to me.

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