Thursday, August 18, 2011


Photo from Google Images

Today, somewhere, it's someone's birthday.
Have you ever thought about it? Everyday is someone's birthday. Someone was born today. Maybe we know them, maybe we live with them, maybe we only know about them, or maybe we've never seen or heard of them at all - but it's their birthday. On the 18 of August, it's someone's birthday. Today's someone's anniversary. Somewhere.

Everyday someone is born, someone turns a year older. To them, I say
Happy Birthday.  I hope that you'll see His light.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Summer Days

Photo from Google Images

The Summer days are quickly fading; daylight is faster leaving, deep green takes over, signaling the beginning of death in the trees.
      The gray clouds are covering the sky right now, making everything look even deeper than it normally does. The wind has been blowing by, flowing through the woods. Things have cooled down.
      This morning I parted the white curtains on my window, pulling the glass down and letting the breeze whisper in. I stood there, feeling a little sad. Summer was dying, and Autumn would soon begin. Not that I don't like Autumn - it's my favorite time of all; but the death of this Once in a Summer was cold. It will never come again. Good things happened - but they're gone now. The change of seasons is emotional, whether we realize it or not. Not only does everything around us change, but we change.
      I was walking up to the barn yesterday, and stopped in the middle of the driveway, breathing deeply that smell of Summer. It blew past me in the cool breeze, and I stopped. Summer. If anything would be Summer, this was it. It's all amazing, and it's all changing, always in motion.
     Voices in my head that I can't get rid of, and it's changing. The voices of people, the voices of Summer, of seasons. It's all changing. Somehow.
      Why is it so beautiful? So wonderful? So... sad, in lots of ways. So far away, but still so close. I sit at the open window and wonder, watch the road, feel the cool air. The pen slips from between loose fingers, falling onto open book, filled with feelings. Taking a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. Here I am.

We can take it slow, let's take it slow

Isaiah 41:10