Pumpkins and mums on porches and steps, signs of Fall in New England, our show-off season. Some maples show hints orange is the new green.
Outside my Perch the marsh yellows. Good Harbor beach sees fewer swimmers, more dogs. Two boats hug the coast, fishing or simply enjoying calm seas on this stunning September morning.
Noticed yesterday, the Farmer’s Market’s thinner, fewer stalls with the growing and harvesting season winding down. Apples sweeten the air. Brooksby and Appleton Farms boast fresh cider and warm donuts dipped in cinnamon sugar. We have it good and yet…
The beauty of this season contrasts with current and impending disasters, natural and man-made. Consider the fallout from impeachment hearings, global warming, fires ravaging the Amazon, hurricanes, flooding, droughts, starvation, gun violence, homelessness, wars and rumors of wars.
What have we done to this earth and each other?
It feels risky to hope, but who survives without it?
Thumbing through Mama’s copy of Streams in the Desert, I found notes in the margins, her place to journal. In shaky handwriting she’d scrawled, “November’s a difficult month. No sight in sight…like a wilderness with no path.” I felt her despair thru words penned five months before she died, just shy of her 91st birthday.
Then, Mama added, but “God is God. I am not.”
After years of experiencing God’s faithfulness, Mama chose, one more time, to trust in God’s overall goodness and purpose, even when life’s “like a wilderness with no path.”
Thanks, Mama, for teaching me to sing in the dark with “no sight in sight”.
“Great is thy faithfulness!
Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see:
all I have needed thy had hath provided-
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!” (lyrics by Thomas O. Chisholm)
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