Tag Archives: nature

Sounds of a Silent Saturday

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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.

Photo by Kseniya Budko on Pexels.com

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.

What about the Weather?

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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.

Burdens and Birdhouses

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Welcome back. As I sit here, the wind is howling all around me, and our old house is creaking and complaining at the disturbance to its peaceful existence in the world. So many times I wonder why things have to change. I wonder why do we have to grow old, and why does the world not appreciate age for its wisdom and value it for its shear survival? I suppose change is good in some ways. Technology has moved us forward. We live longer. Without change there would be no seasons. No progression, I suppose. I muse, but I know better. We’ve been designed to have our moment, and then it’s over.

Many of you know I am a thrifter. I love a good second hand store. Partially, because of the simple fact I am “frugal” and refuse to pay retail. I suppose the environmental impact influences me as well. Recycle, reuse. Rednecks recycle because they’re cheap though! 🙂 I love a good find… especially if the store doesn’t know the item’s value and it’s reflected in the price tag. Other times I wonder where on earth the staff pulled their number from. I’ve yet to be a “professional” though. I wait for the day that I walk out with a piece that I can envision on one of those road side antique stores where diamond rings are encrusted into the back of some obscure framed piece of cats drinking tea. Turns out it was painted by some turn of the century artist who died tragically, mauled by his tea drinking cats, and his works are now worth millions. Never happens to me.

Nevertheless, sometimes a thing just strikes my fancy and I want it. The hubby often laughs, because occasionally I pick weird stuff. Old “junk” that I hope will be used and transformed into something beautiful. (Like an old century farmhouse in the middle of no where… just teasing!) This was the hope at a recent thrift visit. I found an old wooden bird house on the shelf. The wood was well weathered. The paint irrefutably peeling and well worn. It was five bucks. I hummed and hawed. I walked around the shelves some more. As I placed it on the check-out counter, I asked the cashier if she would consider a lower price. It was clearly some redneck farmer’s excuse for firewood. She could not negotiate, she says. Five bucks. It came home with me.

Was it worth the $5??

I can clean it up and fix it, right? Old farmhouse deserves a weathered old birdhouse, right? It was crusty — but the back was held on by a secret hatch — I pulled out all the remnants of a past inhabitant and scrubbed and sanded and dumped all the dirt and debris. My craft room lacks descent lighting, but after it was all dry I hiked upstairs to give it a fresh coat of paint. I wanted to keep it “rustic”, so it isn’t perfect. I thought I might add flowers or something to brighten it up, but old wooden snowflakes worked better… so it’s going to turn in to a winter ice palace for the birds!

I’m sorry to say the project isn’t completely finished yet, so I can’t show you a “before” and “after” only a “before” and “work in progress”. Perhaps it will draw you back to visit us again… I have several bird feeders and houses around the property. Some were here, some I brought with me, some we’ve purchased. Others we thrifted. I’m hoping all the birds will come to my yard. A pair of mourning doves have been hanging around. I haven’t seen them before, so I am thrilled. I hope spring brings some nests! And baby birds to share with you!

“Work in Progress”

Are you a bird watcher? I miss my big picture window of the old house. I still can see the birds and squirrels here, but I have to go from spot to spot to catch them all. Warmer days will find us on the front porch where we have a better view. Not that the birds need my help. I marvel time and time again how teeny tiny little fragile bodies survive our harsh Canadian winters. Bird bones are fragile. Bird bodies are full of air. You can literally crush them with your hand. And I worry about my bunnies under the heaters all winter.

Oh my beloveds, may these thoughts be encouragements to you this week. Things change. Things get old and are different, yet there is still value in the change. We must embrace it, encourage it, with a splash of new paint and wishes for more time to be used by God. Maybe things are not the same as they were, and we creak and moan with the annoying wind, but we stand firm. We are sheltered by His hands from the harsh realities of life. We appear fragile and worthless. Easily crushed. And yet all our needs seem somehow provided for.

Sometimes we get a little help from others. And that’s okay. We are a community and we must look out for one another. The wind is gonna be fierce some days. Perhaps you need to just hunker down for a bit and wait it out. Perhaps you need to seek shelter or be the one who creates it for someone else. I don’t know where you’re at today, but I’m thinking about you. May you sparkle like my new (old?) ice palace birdhouse!