Coffee walks on mitten mornings.

Frozen sherbet skies awaiting the thaw.

Silhouettes of aged trees line the horizon like soldiers. Guarding the precious artwork of our Creator.

Vapors part, pulling back the curtains of morning.

Another day waking.

In the weeks ahead, clouds will melt into rain. Greening the earth yet again.

…

In my Thursday bliss, I have made my way to the park once more.

Mittens warm.

Sips of coffee before I step onto the path.

Oh, how graceful as it curves alongside the brambles of oaks and marvelous maples. A beautiful wooded winding.

Then, in the treetops I hear him.

The papa cardinal.

He is singing his springtime song. The one with a most cheerful lyric: ‘pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty….’

A tune of anticipation.

A joyful reminder of the season yet to come.

Beneath the pines, I inhale the fragrance of needle and cone. The cold breeze ‘whishing’ through the evergreen boughs.

Off in the distance I hear whistle and chatter.

New arrivals from the south are announcing their presence.

The red-winged blackbirds have returned for spring.

In this, my fifth decade, I am finally learning how to truly care for myself.

Discovering the ways in which I can nurture my soul.

An introvert by nature, I derive my energy from time spent alone. So, over the past months I have carved out a day just for that.

Hello Thursdays!

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This time in pulling away from the outside world has become precious to me.

I find myself protecting and defending this span of hours. Saying “no” to offerings of accompaniment, or the beckoning of my lists.

Stepping off the sometimes not-so-merry-go-round of life and into this muffled margin.

Where the place-card reads: ‘Reserved’

And the familiar venue is: home

Time for calm.

A slice of reading and rest. And a portion of peaceful pondering.

Where sounds are simple.

The purring of cats. A clock ticking. Coffee drips as steam swirls and rises hushed from the pot. And birds chirp softly outside my window.

I watch as the light changes. In the passing of hours.

My breath almost silent.

This is sacred space.

And it is here that I find my Jesus. Ever so close. Pulling me near.

Matthew 11:28

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

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He is the Word.

And outside of scripture lies the wailing of our world.

This clamoring conundrum of chaos.

Friends call and we share our angst. How could this be? This time and place that we are living in is so far from our childhoods.

The brazen bickering of a generation at war.

Words like truth and trust now transformed to censorship and seduction.

Syringes of sadness injected into an already grievous and squalid society.

The enemy is desperate as he slithers in his agony. Trying to capture and clip the wings of the weak.

The lost souls.

The misguided.

There is no place in recent history that our world has more vehemently ached for the  coming of our Savior.

This existence is saturated with sickness and churning with greed.

Virtue and value now strangled by the stronghold of sin.

John 16:33

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

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I have watched my Sweet Louise as she, too, is steeped in this reality.

Different lenses peering at the same landscape.

As her mother, the one who has been charged with the caretaking of her spirit, I am often confronted with challenges of how to best tend to her gifts in this lifetime.

Amidst the turmoil.

Such a delicate dance of supposition and surrender.

Attempting to catapult her creativity.

To prompt her passions.

In these callings of her heart, she will be faced with a world attempting to throw her off balance. To steal her steady. To minimize her worth.

…

So I trust my Thursdays to be an example.

While I dive deeper into Scripture, find forgiveness, and reconcile relationships ~ I am strengthening my walk with Jesus.

In turn, I find that I tend to control less and quiet more. No longer as demanding of my daughter.

This is allowing her a greater capacity for thinking space.

Space to find her own footing.

In these latter years, I have come to befriend both wrinkles and wisdom.

And I have learned that there is no greater gift to give my Sweet Louise than a prelude to a relationship with Christ.

For when the perplexities of this life are thrust before her, I want her to hear the voice of our Savior in her heart.

Not the nagging of her mother in her head. 

His is the conversation that matters.

It is in Him alone that we can finally flourish.

Despite the dungeons of turmoil and tumult. No matter the crisis or circumstance.

The battle has already been won.

Isaiah 25:8

He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth:  for the LORD has spoken it.

…

If our Father God can turn this world and tell the seasons to when to change, surely we can trust that He holds our days in the palm of His hand.

Like the promise of spring His Holy Spirit lies deep within us ~ to grow our souls and to guide our steps.

So as we listen for that whisper in our ‘Thursday’ hearts, we will come to hear His voice.

Steering us safely home.

And with the cardinal to accompany us, we will sing in anticipation of His glorious and triumphant return!