Mary's Heartbeats

It's interesting that the older I get, the more I don't get.  I have discovered that there are just things unexplainable in life.  Things don't always work out the way I expect.  Life is often unfair and unjust.  It seems that if you make any headway in life, you're sure to have at least more set backs and failures than successes.  Yet, in spite of that reality, I have also discovered the freedom that comes from having a prospective on life that sees unexpected and unwelcome times as "Providential seasons."  What am I talking about?  It was a much earlier time, back in the days of Roman rule and power.  All we have left to read is a letter sent to a friend.  The writer tells us that he is "sending his very heart" with all that he is writing.  We're not exactly sure of the background, other than there has been an escaped slave that has actually become a supportive friend and great helper to the writer.  But now, Paul, the one who...

" Squawk . . . squawk . . . squawk!"  I know that familiar sound, as I rode down the street.  I started straining in the bright sunshine to get a glimpse of one of my favorite sightings in our neighborhood.  The squawks continued to chatter vigorously, and then I caught up with the culprits.  About eight of them were lined in rows on the swaying telephone wires, dressed with their yellow bellies and bright lime green coats.  They formed such a picturesque scene, especially with the autumn trees in the background.  Wonderful parrots, flying free and enjoying their morning counsel with one another, what a regal bunch!  Obviously, there was much to talk about, and they didn't seem to mind my fascination with them.  I remember when I first saw one or two of them.  I was way up the hill, and when I glimpsed one flying overhead, I thought for sure that someone must have lost their pet parrot.  But that was before I learned that our climate act...

Dear Lord, I want to come before You today with praise and thanksgiving.  Thank you for your constant care and provision for us each day, thank you for the gift of life itself. Thank you for my husband and your faithfulness to me these almost 25 years.  Thank you for his children and the gift of a granddaughter that has turned my husband into the sweetest Grandpa. Thank you for our son and his precious wife.  Thank you for the blessing we have had in him, and now for the privileged gift of such a beautiful daughter. Thank you for my brother and sister, and for those other brothers and sisters who are unable to be with us today.  Thank you for each of the families they represent, for all the nephews and nieces, and nephews and nieces to come.  May you bless each one. And Lord,  keep us close as family, always knit together.  Keep us loving one another and forgiving one another, because as you have told us "love covers a multitude of sins."...

My nose was awakened by the paw of Goldyn.  Mmm. . . it's still pitch black and the morning air is brisk even inside our home.  I buried myself a bit deeper in the covers and flannel sheets, but Goldy wouldn't give up as he kept nagging me with his paw to wake up.  Once up, I recognized that autumn days have arrived. It's a short season, but one which grabs your attention with its cold wind, bright colors, and dark days. As I started on my bike ride, my eyes caught all the changing trees.  Leaves were scattered on the lawns and on the streets.  I like the amber, crimson trees the best, although the neighborhood is full of golden ones as well.  It's interesting to me that the colors seem more glorious when they are given a darkened background.  They seem to shine more brightly when black clouds build behind them.  Even other plants seem more brilliant, as I love the bougainvillea that cover many fences with it's lavender, orange, and deep red p...

I don't know what it is exactly, there are certain days of golf I probably shouldn't play.  Especially, those in which I haven't had had my regular practice days completed beforehand.  The golf course becomes unforgiving and has a way of reminding me of that all through the game.  Yes, golf serves to humble me.  Somehow it always feels worse with other spectators watching you choke.  Just like yesterday, I found myself more often in the tall grass, side hills, and water than on the fairway.  Good thing I had taken extra balls, because I think I lost at least six of them.  My redeeming moments were short and far between.  I have to wonder sometimes, why do I keep on playing?  What is there about that game that keeps me striving and grinding even with that kind of day?  Is it making me a golfer ever? Humility and meekness seems to come through pain.  It certainly isn't automatic.  I think human nature strives to outshine one ...