Oh my beloveds! I am already behind a week and a day! We missed last week, and almost missed this one! There simply just hasn’t been a second to sit down with ya’ll and have a chat! Not that I haven’t been thinking of you! I have! Perhaps I am just getting overwhelmed with all my chores, or too old to keep up… or who knows what! Yet, here we are, behind again and making it work. So, this post, too, will be short and sweet, but I want to introduce a little “theme” that I have brewing for the next few weeks. A thought in my brain that I want to touch on for the next few blog posts. It’s not a new topic to us, but one I have been thinking of again: Dandelions.
Seems a little weird, eh? It hit me a few weeks ago, when at my uncle’s funeral, the pastor mentioned Psalm 103. Verse 15 starts by saying:
“Our days on earth are like grass, like wildflowers, we bloom and die. 16 The wind blows, and we are gone — as though we had never been here.”
Like those teeny yellow “weeds” that appear in the spring all over our field, we come, and suddenly, we are gone again. I read a cute little devotional that says we should be more like dandelions: without being asked or prodded, we should “pop up” in places where we can be seen as Jesus… and then be hard to get rid of… until the right time! It’s true. The sides of the country roads along my daily commute is a sea of yellow right now. And, it reminds me to be present. Be visible. “Pop” in where you need to be.
As I mentioned, these little wildflowers are not foreign to mittonmusings.com. But we’re going to sit here for a little bit. And so, if you’re new here, take a look at where we’ve been before.
Welcome back, my friends. Apologies for skipping out last week… just wasn’t there. It was Easter and I was certainly musing, but I didn’t get a chance to sit down at the computer to write about it. So it’s going to overflow into this week. It’s my blog, I’m allowed. It’s been an eventful week this week too … two words: baby chicks! Therefore, I am a little late in posting. But: it’s my blog, I’m allowed.
Okay. Here we go. I want to invite you in to the middle of the night at my old farmhouse. I have very few neighbours. It’s not the big city. We have one streetlight, so that permeates the absolute darkness of, let’s say, three o’clock in the morning. I’m lying in bed awake, as some women of my age do, listening. The chubby dog takes up half the space I have allocated myself and I pull the remaining covers up over my shoulders. It’s chilly, but that’s okay. The dog snorts. I hear myself and the hubby breathing. My eyes are closed and block out the streetlight. I listen again.
During the day, our old farmhouse creeks and we hear the wind outside. Our neighbouring cows are loud most of the time. The occasional car, truck or farm vehicle zoom past our front yard and kick up the dust – the dog barks at the slower traffic. Up until recently, Morris our rooster could be heard. (It’s a myth that roosters only crow in the mornings. That crazy bird yelled all the time at us!) However, I’m sad to report he’s been missing now for a few weeks. I’d like to think he was heroic and was “taken” fighting the whole time to protect his ladies. Even our buddy down the road commented he hadn’t heard him lately and kinda misses him. Enough about that sad event. Moving on.
Back to three o’clock in the morning and the snoring dog. Imagine you hear a gurgling like a giant belch emanating from some underwater jelly-bellied monster. That monster happens to be the sump pump located in the basement, directly underneath our master bedroom. It belches several times throughout the day and night. Earlier in the spring it followed a constant sound of rushing water as the spring melt emptied and got flushed back out by the sump pump. I’ve learned to appreciate the sound of the it, because it means my basement isn’t flooding. Like the sound of generators running constantly during our ice storm a few weeks ago. Thankfully, those have stopped now, and we are back to a general quiet.
Listen again. Hushed breathing. The cat jumps down from something upstairs with a soft thud. My new baby chick birds finally rustle. I listen to hear them as I’ve only had them a few days (yeah!) and I’m still at the new momma “please don’t die” stage. Somebody peeps very softly, and I say a prayer of thanks for signs of life in the middle of the night. They settle back down in their living room home with the soft red light of the heat lamp. Silence again. Gurgle belch. Hushed breathing. The furnace clicks on briefly, with a rush of pilot light flame. Otherwise it is pretty quiet here.
I’m a week behind in this muse, but I’ve been thinking about it since a comment I heard Easter weekend. You’ve heard of “good Friday”. You may have heard of “celebration Sunday” or “Easter Sunday” or even “resurrection day”, but this year, for the first time ever, I heard someone use the term “silent Saturday”. The day between Jesus’ death on “good Friday” and rising again on the third day… the day when all was absolutely silent. Apparently, I am late to the party on this concept, for google has lots to say about silent Saturday. Not so silent on the internet. Well fine. It was a new thought for me. And so, I share it with you!
One imagines Jesus, stone cold in a dark tomb. Obviously, corpses don’t say much. God the father did a lot of “talking” on Friday, but no signs and wonders happen to be recorded on the day in between. Jesus’ followers have probably gathered, but may be hiding out, keeping a low profile. It seems like it really was a “silent Saturday”. And it seems, with some reflection on my part, and the internet sparking my thoughts, a day of quiet reflection should totally be a part of the Easter story! Life is difficult. There will be hard days. Yet, life is also beautiful, and there will be many a day filled with joy and celebration. And we often need a few silent Saturdays, to balance it all out. To question why God seems to have abandoned us. Why He seems like He is not answering our prayers. Then to reflect on His faithfulness, and draw strength for the next step. Like me listening for signs of life at three in the morning, thankful that things are still “okay so far”.
So, thanks to that friend that happened to mention this phrase to me last week… it ignited a muse that’s spanned a week! Was it news to you? Even if it wasn’t and you knew this lingo way before me, I hope it’s been a good reminder to you, to appreciate a bit of silence. May you take the opportunity to hear the gurgle belch of a good sump pump and appreciate all you have. Be blessed, beloveds.
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As I sit here, the wind is howling, and there has been a steady, misting rain all day. The rain is supposed to continue all night into tomorrow. Last weekend was beautiful though… the Mitton crew had a nice family getaway where we just “hung out” and spent time with each other. The sun shone on the lake and we enjoyed cool evenings under a full moon. On my way to work the other morning, the landscape was actually mesmerizing… a dense fog hovered over the corn fields, the sun was deep and orange as it climbed over the horizon to begin its day and the sky was quiet and fairy-forest like. Crazy. Soon the snow will cover the ground. Canadian weather keeps us on our toes. And Canadians have a habit of chatting about it all the time. It’s our small talk. And it’s what I am musing about this week.
My drive to work the other morning…
Have you ever thought about the difference between fog and mist? (Here’s a hint… it has to do with how far you can see). What about how rainbows are made? Why different snowflake shapes? Seasonal consequences like falling leaves, coastal tidal waves and hibernation? Hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms. Have you ever stopped to wonder about how we went from a planet of steady weather (before Noah’s flood) to an ever changing planet of potentially cataclysmic daily events? Not to mention hemispheres of constant weather like polar regions and deserts. Climate change aside, the weather serves to function perfectly to keep our world growing and changing. Seasons change and the natural world adapts and uses those changes to its full potential. Only God could design such a thing, I suppose.
Which adds the next level in my muse: How many times does the Bible reference “the weather”? I haven’t found a definitive answer, but there certainly is a lot of times verses mention weather, rain, wind, volcanoes, mist, storms… you name it, I am sure it’s in there. Consider Job 36:
26 “Behold, God is great, and we do not know Him; Nor can the number of His years be discovered. 27 For He draws up drops of water, Which distill as rain from the mist, 28 Which the clouds drop down And pour abundantly on man. 29 Indeed, can anyone understand the spreading of clouds, The thunder from His canopy? 30 Look, He scatters His light upon it, And covers the depths of the sea. 31 For by these He judges the peoples; He gives food in abundance. 32 He covers His hands with lightning, And commands it to [h]strike. 33 His thunder declares it, The cattle also, concerning [i]the rising storm.”
NKJV
Still, above all that, there is a God who is in charge of it all. One who can calm the storm and send fire and brimstone from the heavens… yet whispers in the still small voice of a misty morning. Do ya feel it, friend? Anyone can feel the power behind a crack of thunder just a little too close. We marvel at foggy days and rejoice under the warm sun of a summer day. We humans also benefit from God’s meteorology. We need the sun to warm our bodies and grow our food. We function under the cycles our earth creates. Anyone who works shifts knows how important night versus day is.
Jesus calms the storm
Perhaps God designed a mono-climate in the garden of Eden to keep things simple, but He certainly makes us aware of His presence these days with the crazy weather — which keeps us Canadians in plenty of choices for small talk. And so I encourage you — next time you’re sittin’ on the old porch chair chit chatting about the weather and the storm that’s rolling in… consider the source. Marvel at the mist. Listen to the still soft whisper in the wind. And know that there is a bigger God who calms the storm and designs each snowflake by hand.
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