Thought for Today: Winter Wonder

What makes you feel like a kid again? WONDER! Yes! It's that unmistakeable feeling that comes over you when you see something new and incredible, when you are shocked at how something works or was created to be so amazing. And it's like you are a child experiencing life in a fresh aspect like never before. This week wonder hit me. I woke up to another January day of cold and snow. As the day dawned, my daughter looked out our sliding glass door and excalimed, "Look at all the snowballs!" Sure enough, when I looked out to our backyard there were hundreds of snowballs rolled up overnight by the wind. In all my life I had never seen this before. WOW! Wonder! Amazement! I quickly changed clothes and threw on snow gear. I had to see this upclose and take some photos to share with family down south. When I got outside I saw more and more snowballs and my excitement grew. How could this be? How come I'd never seen this phenomenon before after so many cold snowy winters? I was filled with delight and energy! My average day in the north in January in winter changed into something special, something fun, something happy. What has filled you with wonder lately? Feel free to leave a comment!

Poem: Last Day First Day

 Last Day First Day

Soft morning light dawns

Candles flickering

Fireplace logs burning

Warming

My toes while I wait

For the coffeepot to finish

Brewing

Earthy aroma filling the 

Quiet house

Today is our first day of the

New year

Your last day with us

You sparkled 

Brightly 

Softly

Giving joy

Beauty

Gently in the darkness

Reminding us

A light has dawned

The

Light of the World

Short Story: The Guest

The Guest

It was a cold winter's night and while I was rummaging around in my living room looking for matches to light a fire in my small fireplace there was a knock. 'Must be squirrels again', I thought. The cold was driving them into small holes in the foundation of my cottage in the hills. But there it was again, a firm knock against my wooden front door, and then two more knocks after that. Who could it be so late on such a bitter night? I left the matches on the mantle, I had found them in the drawer of the side table, and ran over to the door, unbolted it with a bang, that large rusty lock needed a hard turn to loosen it and saw a hooded figure waiting and stamping her feet on the coblestone step. She lifted her head and snow showered down from her hood and covered her brown leather boots. Her coat was long and deep red, made from a soft worn cordoroy and the edges were trimmed with green embroidered vines. "Well," she said, "Are you going to invite me in or just stand there letting the cold in?" I was too shocked to say anything as she marched herself in through the doorway and right over to the fireplace. "This just won't do", she remarked and began buiding a fire. "Hand me the matches please." With a quick strike of a match she bent over to rest the flame onto the pine needle kindling and the fire instantly began to crackle. "There!" Before I could even ask her name she plopped down into my only easy chair and rested her head full of short white curls back and closed her eyes. Her round face was gentlelike with wrinkles and rosy cheeks. I thought she might fall asleep she looked so cozy and at home in the cushions. "My does something smell nice", she said. I just remembered and hurried into the kitchen to turn down the burner and ladled out steaming wassail into two mugs and brought them to the living room. I handed one to my guest and kept the other one and sat down by the fire. My hands were warm from the hot mug. "Excuse me," I said. "Can I ask who you are and what you are doing out on such a bitter night and why you were knocking on my door?" She smiled there as she rested with her eyes closed and then before I knew it she was snoring softly. I reached over and took the empty mug from her hands and watched her closely. She looked familiar but not entirely recognizable. Was she my neighbor's grandmother lost out in the snow? Their farm was a mile over the south hill and I couldn't imagine anyone wandering so far. I let her sleep and sipped on my wassail, how did she manage to drink hers so fast? The fire snapped and spat a few sparks, the room was dim except for the bright dancing flames. My mind wanndered to soft music playing Silent Night, candles held by steady hands in a dark church. Suddenly the scene changed and children were lauging and skating on a frozen patch of ice in a lonely cornfield at night. Then my mind raced to a dining room table beautifully laid, white china bowls filled with scalding oyster stew waiting for an eager family. The spicey and sweet aroma of the wassail filled my cottage and once again my mind wandered to a kitchen alive with loud Hellos and Merry Christmas and Come on In! Yes, it was just as it was before, so vivid in my mind's eye. Then suddenly, the old woman jumped to her feet, pulled her sagging hood over her head, clapped her hands, opened the door (how she did it so effortlessly I'll never know) walked into the  blowing snow and disappeared. I never found out who she was and never saw her again. But, if you ever hear a knock on a cold winter's night it just might be The Ghost of Christmas Eve.

Photo art: grunderquendel

Poem: Magic

 Magic

I walk 

On a cold frosty morning

Crunching of ice under my feet

To clear my head

Pages of lists

Left at home

Gifts to buy

Dinners to cook

Snowmen to build

Tree to trim

House to clean

Cards to write

Clothes to wash

Calendar to check

Again

I breathe

Cold air in

What is the point

Of all the lists?

Slow beam of sunlight 

Shines through

Gray clouds 

Transforms fresh white snow

Into fields of shimmering diamonds

Magical

In one second

Heavy thoughts become a prayer

God fill me 

Let me create, like You

The magical in all 

I do 

This Christmas.

Sarah Brutovski

                                                                       

A Tribute to Fall

 

A picture is worth a thousand words. What about a picture of words from when you were a child, just finding her way with words and feeling a strong connection to them? The worth seems deep and important. I'm so thankful that one of my writing projects from childhood was saved. I cherish this snapshot of my seven year old self.

Thought For Today: Exploring

Spring was full of one thing after another and then Summer started off with millions of details to pull together for our first graduation party and then a big trip for our senior and myself. It had been such a long time since I had last traveled to the west coast. After eight days away, I came home feeling blessed. Each issue I had stressed over beforehand had turned out just fine and really more than fine. God answered a lot of prayers and it was a super trip. 

The delight of travel for me is exploration. From trying new foods to seeing new sights, it's a true adventure to be discovering a place for the first time. I wanted to carry into the remaining weeks of Summer wonder and excitement, a challenge regardless of how much I enjoy experiencing new things. There are dishes to be washed, driving, then more driving to take kids to work, to go grocery shopping, to pick up mulch from the garden store. Then of course meals need to be made, and for this dry spell we are in, gardens need to be watered and then watered day after day after day. In July, I kept that spirit of exploration alive but now the school year has already started. What explorations can I fit into the Fall routines to keep life Fresh?

Poem: Train

 I've been thinking over a concept for about two years and decided to try to put it in to a poem. So many times life throws the bad at us while something beautiful is happening. One day our family was enjoying the last day of a fun soccer season. The weather was sunny, breezy and warm. The kids were jumping into the van laughing and sharing stories of the day's games and the pizza party. We had the together feeling; family and goodness. I remember thinking it was a perfect moment of joy. Then I got a text letting us know that a family we had been investing in had lost their young mom to suicide. It stopped me in my tracks, sitting in the front seat in shock. And that's what life is like. The beautiful and the devasting happen often right at the same time. Maybe it's grace? Enough good to help us in the trials?

Train

On the train

Tattered overnight bag in my lap

Leather handles smooth in my fingers

Seats are empty

I travel alone

Quiet

The tracks under the floor rumble in a comforting rhythm

Strange experience this 

Train

I look out 

Clear window on my left

I inhale deeply

Beauty

Green leafy trees brush glass as the 

Train ticks by

Bright sunshine

Soft breeze

Children laughing on a set of swings, higher and higher

Picnic table by a lake

Shining water in the light

A trail up a mountainside

Log cabin with a stream of gray smoke 

Ascending in a smooth line

A couple holding hands

Walking along a white sandy beach

Toes in the water at the shoreline

A little town with a coffeeshop 

Scent of fresh bacon sizzling and coffee brewing fills the 

Train car

I inhale deeply

Smile

Stretch my legs out in front of me

My seat is soft and velvety

I look to my right

Rub my eyes

Suddenly

Dark

Shadows blur by

Trees have turned into

Claws

Sun to 

Rain pelting the windows, they start to 

Crack

How long before the break and

Shatter in the storm

The breeze is an angry wind

Lightening cuts the sky, explodes

Sparks burst into the darkness

Train tips and shakes

I grab the seat in front of me

Hold tightly

My grip is the only thing

Holding me steady

Long cruel arms of the trees

Wrap around the train

Try to rip it from the track

All is darkness

Until

I look to the left

Calm

Snow falling gently

Pure white feathers

Floating down 

Covering the land in inches then feet of 

Downy diamonds

Sweet cinnamon fills the air

Warmth

My bag pops open

A thermos of hot coffee, a sweet roll are ready

I pour coffee into a pink mug

Sip, savor, relish the richness

Sweet roll to my lips

Is this heaven?

Mug warming my cold hands

Look to the right

Darkness, fury, storm

I close my eyes

Warm hands, quiet breath

Music begins

Melody of gladness

Strain of dissonance, conflict

Then clear, gentle, bright

Melody

Flute trilling the song

Bluebird rising

Life.

photo credit: Dirk Vetter/ pixabay