My Heavenly Sanctuary

Almost everyone has a specific memory from their childhood that they are especially fond of. For some it may be a vacation to a famous city, a

day spent at an amusement park, or a week camping in the great outdoors. But for me the best of times were spent at my grandparents' home in the bosque, along the Rio Grande. Nana and Papa had a beautiful, lush yard that was the focal point of many family gatherings. As the uncles would push the cousins on the rickety swing-set under the massive cottonwood, the ladies would chat on the back patio. It was a tranquil atmosphere that had a way of making everyone's worries subside. Nana's home was a place where I could be a kid no matter what the season: summer, harvest, or spring.

Summer was a blessed time for recreation, especially as we grew older and learned to appreciate the breaks from school and homework. Our Nana and Papa loved having us over; we brought much sunshine to their lives. With youthful vigor, we would race the tricycles and zip down the sidewalk on rollerblades. But when the sun's beams reached their zenith we grew weary and resorted to a cooler activity. We would entertain ourselves for hours by swimming laps and floating like bloated fish in the “Olympic-sized” pool. Looking back now, it was surely no more than a foot high and ten feet in length, but to a child's imagination the world is limitless. When our attentions began to wane we turned to the sprinklers! Chasing each other through the refreshing mist, we would squeal and giggle until our energy evaporated. Ultimately, we would collapse on the porch in exhaustion, where Nana never failed to provide a pitcher of quenching cranberry juice. Summertime was simply glorious!

Autumn was filled with loads of fun and laughter. Crisp breezes were a welcome change from the heat of summer as they whistled through the dying fields. With the celebration of fall birthdays came cake, ice cream, punch, balloons, and piñatas, basic ingredients for any festive occasion. When harvest time rolled around my family would be out picking apples in the orchard. Even when I was too young to actively participate, I had an important role. From my seat in the giant wicker basket, my job was to oversee the yielded produce. Captivated, I always had a toothless grin on my chubby face and clapped joyfully. As winter approached and the days shortened, we retreated indoors. My cousins and I loved to dress up and play Princess. Adorned with long, flowing dresses, clip-on earrings, and glittering tiaras, we proudly paraded down the palace halls as if we owned the place.

The memories I adore most from my childhood are of Easter. It was the ultimate highlight of every year. Early spring in Peralta was destined to be gorgeous. Nana's immense flower garden was always bursting with every shade and hue imaginable. On that designated Sunday, some mysterious person would randomly scatter plastic eggs about the yard and our goal as little scavengers was to locate all of a particular color. It was a magical adventure as each of us set out on a journey to find the most eggs in the least amount of time. At the next stage, we were given clues leading to a grand prize, which usually consisted of extra chocolates or dollar bills. Finally, once the tasks were completed, we would all gather on an afghan in the midst of the lawn and reveal to one another our treasured prizes. These are the moments I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Just as seasons change, my childhood years have come to an end. We're all older now and are beginning to go our separate ways, but we still love to reminisce and will forever cherish the times we shared together at our Bosque house. The thrills and joys may have been simple, but they were ever fulfilling to a child's tender heart. Each little moment has knit my family closer than words can express. And though that red brick house has since been sold, I am ever thankful for the blessed memories of its heavenly sanctuary.

Astounding Beauty

The high stone walls that encompass the Scottish garden are cool this early morning. Tranquility abides and a soft mist lingers near the bell tower. Dewdrops are gently scattered on the buds and the fragrance of blossoming roses is ever sweet. Every variety imaginable has been planted. Faint yellows,vibrant oranges, glistening pinks, pure whites, and even some exotic blues. The beauty of the moment is astounding. Amidst the bushes is a bench picturesquely nestled off the path. You pause to rest and ponder as you inhale the heavenly air. The pace of life is all too rapid and how few places where solitude is felt are left. But on the grounds of this remote castle lies a whole new meaning of life. Here you are able to take a step back and enjoy that which our Creator has given.

Poppies

What a wonderful afternoon for a spring picnic. The flowers are freshly blooming and buds blossoming. You have a favorite spot in mind. Benton's Field.

Joy Azure

Summer is almost gone. The days of school are fast approaching. When life and work must resume. But while you can still escape, you hop into your old Chevy and blaze down the backroads, windows down and dust a billowing. Up ahead is a field, stretching from east to west. You pull over and stop the engine. A meadowlark chirps sweetly on his flight overhead. The field seems inviting, it's tall stocks offering some shady relief from the August heat. Giant, bright sunflowers tower above and all around as far as the eye can see. The field is a nice retreat from the heat of the August sun. The flowery, sunshine-yellow petals are so cheery and fill one's heart with joy. Up above through the flowers you can catch a glimpse of the vibrant azure sky. A smile sneaks across your face from ear to ear.

Rainy Thoughts

Raindrops. Joy from heaven. It's a typical afternoon in Illinois. Darkened storm clouds loom above Lake Michigan and seem to be rolling closer west. Driving up Sheridan Rd., I enter the hometown of my father. The scenery is much different than I am accustomed to in the desert of New Mexico. Trees are everywhere, tall green trees and lush grass. Flowers freely spring up, and in mid June many are blossoming. The homes are so picturesque and unique. Raindrops begin to patter their song as they dance across the windshield. Slowly, I approach the house where so many of my father's memories took place several years ago; the death of my grandmother bringing me back. The neighborhood has grown in 30 years, but the old red brick house still stands. Two strong oak trees guard the yard. My thoughts dart from story to story and then compare to the actual location. How times have changed. Life is so different and the past is quickly slipping away, right through our fingers. Days cannot be re-lived. The old driveway is now faint and covered in grass, the new covered in blacktop. The old field of weeds and wild flowers now a nicely manicured lawn belonging to a neighbor.

Golden Beams

The golden beams of morning stream through your window. You slowly open your eyes and smile at the thought of a fresh and brand new day. The sunshine is so sweet, casting a cheery glow on the apricot colored room. You sit up and stretch your muscles, preparing them for the promising day ahead. And joyfully, you bounce out of your white poster bed, making your way to the window, whose curtains are blowing gently in the lilac-sceneted, crisp breeze. Curiously, you pull back the drapes to unveil a glorious world. The sunbeams hit your rosy face and you grin at all the spring flowers that are budding. A bubbly robin rests on the limb of a blossoming cherry tree, singing carefree his melodious tunes. "His compassions fail not, they are new every morning, great is Thy faithfulness." God never ceases to give us a clean slate every single day. With this promise in mind you turn, motivated to face the day and all that lies ahead. :)

Inspired to Etch

On this cool evening in late July a stroll down the coast is in store. The sun is lowering itself toward the horizon, where the rolling ocean meets the sky. It's been a lovely summer day, the weather perfect for an afternoon down at the water in Oregon. The mossy green cliffs above, with their cascading shimmering hills in the golden sun; the rocky shoreline is jagged, rugged, and utterly breath-taking. It reminds you of something you'd see illustrating a magazine article. Few shells are whole, but you search diligently. Perseverance pays off as you reach down to retrieve a smooth sand dollar. The tide is out and waves crash against the exposed rocks covered in mussels, sea anemones and cucumbers. The sand is so moist and invisible water rests atop, creating a glassy, mirrored surface. The effect is beautiful in all its own, let alone what it reflects. A few paces further you discover a purple starfish that has washed up. Around the bend stands a massive lighthouse, anchored tightly to the top of the cliff. The sun is near to sinking below the skyline. Stumbling across a piece of driftwood, you sit to rest, watching as dusk sets in. A branch lies close by and you reach for it, inspired to etch in the grains. A passage from the Psalms coms to mind and these words pour through your fingertips, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light to my path.” Just like lighthouses are there to guide and protect ships all through the night, so is our Saviour there for us whenever we need Him. We shall seek Him and find Him when we search with all our heart. He will never leave us nor forsake us; He is always there, willing to lead us through joys and sorrows alike. This message may be wiped away when the tide washes in, but may it forever be hidden close to our hearts. A salty breeze whistles through the tall grass on the hillside, reminding you to keep moving. Energized, you spring to your feet, aching for adventure. The azure sky is spotted with fluffy white clouds, but soon take on wispy shapes and begin to shift to pale hues of pink, purple, yellow, orange, and all that is in between. The colors are magnificent, as if a live canvas were before you, painted by a Master Artist. The now silhouette of the lighthouse is a spectacular sight, its beacon faintly shining. The moment is flawless, more divine that a postcard image. For, you are here, now, living and breathing this very instant. You pause and lookout to sea, taking everything in. Your feet sink in the soft sand and ooze between your toes. A pod of whales spout just off the beach, surfacing every-so-often. The beam of light is now apparently stronger as it flashes in circles. A fog horn breaks the silence of the waves. Reluctantly, you start heading back, a flashlight lighting the way. Ghost crabs scurry rapidly to escape the glare. What a soothing evening, a wonderful experience. A day that speaks volumes to the majesty of our Creator. For who else would make such a grand place? The love of our Father is incomprehensible and this is only miniscule to what awaits us one great day in heaven.

Dazzling Display of Red, White, and Blue

The Statue of Liberty in all her glory. What a marvelous way to spend the fourth of July in celebration of our nation's declaration of independence on that day in 1776. THe banner of stars and stripes shines brilliantly in the moonbeams. Between the spires of her crown and the luminous torch clenched in her fist bursts a dazzling display of red, white, and blue, raining upon the darkened night sky. Colors of fireworks are reflected in the harbor shores beneath and an echoing boom shatters through the air. A live band plays the national anthem on a ferry off the island. The Statue of Liberty. A monument to our freedom. A symbol to our independence. The lady has stood in the harbor of New York City, greeting all those who immigrated to our beautiful country. What a welcoming first sight to those who finally saw land and to know their daring journey abroad was coming to a close. Cooper aged in green, she still stands strong as a reminder of our nation's history. Millions flock here annually to see this emblem for their own eyes. A memory they are sure to never forget. But on this Independence Day it is a extra special event, a specific date to contemplate all that our country has gone through and all the advancements it has made. May freedom forever ring!

Myriad of Colors

The fourth of July, Independence Day! 234 years of freedom. Freedom to speak, write, say, travel, worship, you name it. Freedom of choice. Sparklers, streamers, firecrackers, fireworks. Oh, beloved fireworks, rocketing above Lake Coeur d'Alene, exploding at their zenith to display a myriad of panoramic colors, mirrored in the shining, reflectant waves below. The sky is instantly illuminated and bursts of shots ring through the air, echoing off the surrounding hills. Showers of fireworks rain down as the crowds lined up on the shores ooh and ahh in wonder and awe. What a joyous day for celebration! A day to celebrate freedom. :)

Coming Seasons

The morn before Thanksgiving. All is still and the house is silent as a mouse. But you can't stay quiet that long, so you sneak out the back door for Panera. Cinnamon crunch bagel, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a mug of steamy cocoa. It's a crisp November morning, the leaves have all changed and fallen when a northern storm front blew in. A wet, white winter is promised. After filling your belly you go for a short stroll before returning home. Silently you walk along, exhaling steam into the chilly air. The few remaining autumn leaves crinkle beneath your footsteps and you contemplate what the coming seasons bring.

Random Thoughts

Cotton candy skies – sunset
Be a pure water droplet. For how much influence can one little particle of water have upon a large body of water?

Fresh Beginnings

The sunrise is spectacular. Simply stunning and utterly breath-taking! Words can't begin to describe the beauty of the dawning morning hues that shade the horizon. The sun has yet to make its appearance and shine beams of light into the sky. The air is fresh, carrying the scent of Jasmine blossoms on a soft and gentle breeze. A meadowlark sits atop a leaning fencepost and chirps melodiously. The sky, displayed as navy blue, slowly shifts to a deep violet. As time ticks on, wisps of colors are added, smeared here and there, just as if God were dipping his fingertips into paint and hand-crafting each pixel. The deep colors faintly lighten to pale lavender, pastel pinks, sherbet orange, and sunshine yellow. No two patches are identical, nor ever will be; each is entirely unique. The beauty of the sky could only be created by a higher Power.
There is a God and He cares for you, He loves you so much. Why else would He custom the sunrise every morning, but to cheer your day and warm you heart? Just like the clean sky every morning, God offers you a clean slate each and every day.
"This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed. Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'Therefore I hope in Him!' The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him." (Lamentations 3:21-25)
He is faithful to promise us a new beginning every single day. No matter how bad we messed up yesterday. We need to give it our best and make the most of everything. Don't carry the worries of yesterday into today. Let go of your regrets and start anew. Let us not wary of falling, but if we do so, let it be to our knees. For there is One stronger, who is able to carry us through.
We tend to get stuck in our past and faults, that grasping the hope of a fresh start seems out of reach. The past is just a path to your future, don't let it determine your destiny. Your prospect cannot be hindered by even the darkest events in history, if surrendered to God. Let God make your life like a beautiful sunrise, unique and perfect!
Won't you call to Him today and accept His merciful gift? Make today what you wish yesterday had been; give it your all.

Faulty

What a beautiful day! The sun is high in the bright blue, cloudless sky and sunflowers point boldly upwards with their sunny faces. A gentle breeze rushes through the grassy field, yet does little to stiffle the blistering heat. A drive up to Faulty Trail is in store, a quick escape to a hide-away. You can't handle the pressures of the week anymore. Not too far up the path the temperature already begins to decrease. And not much farther along the atmosphere completely changes. The scenery goes from the drab evergreens to the lush vibrant greens. A stream is heard gurgling up ahead, splashing over the rocks.

A Wandering Mind

Sometimes you just need to sit down and write. You have no idea what about. You don't want to ramble on about just anything. But sometimes you have to write even when you're mind blank and at a loss for words. All seems to have left you and you're left lost, wondering. Wondering what in the world to write about. But you overcome your phobia of wasting paper and ink and start to write. About what? Anything that comes to you. But the only thing that you can focus on is how you can't focus or think of something to say. So you rattle away, about nothing, knowing nobody will want to read it. But maybe by just putting your blank thoughts onto paper and out of your mind, something important will replace them. Instead, you just keep going in circles. How you need to write and can't believe you're wasting paper. How you want to go dirt biking so bad. And listening to someone out their on their's has made you loose it and you've been so restless this evening. For no apparent reason. You dream, reliving the memories from the past two weeks. Well the past two weeks, one week ago. But that's how you'll always refer to it. The past two weeks. And a weekend in Paradise. You can't help but smile. The sun has fallen below the horizon now and daylight fades like a rosebud drying up. What a weird illustration. Each day flies by, seconds pass in a heartbeat. Seconds and heartbeats you'll never get back or relive. Seconds you better have made the most of, because when you look back you do want to smile on them. Did you make somebody else smile in that second, or did you let the moment slip by without telling them for much they're cherished and appreciated?

A Wonderful Day in Paradise

There's something about a weekend in the great outdoors of beautiful Big Sky Montana spent dirt biking with awesome friends. There's something about it that connects your heart to their's and is bound by nature. The aroma of a campfire lingers on everybody and the gentle breeze ruffles your hair. You all throw helmets on and rev up the engines. Soon you're blasting down the road, eager to find a decently treacherous trail. 80.9 MPH doesn't cut it, but as for safety it's fast enough. There aren't any foot pegs for you on the back, so you hold on tightly and strain your calve muscles. The trees whiz by at the speed of lightning. The sky is a vibrant azure with speckles of white cotton scattered here and there across the horizon. It's almost too much to take in all at once. The Clark Fork River rushes by to your left and a railroad bridge crosses over the span. The biking trail is just up ahead and you gain a stronger grip. The road is fairly smooth, until you create your own path, which is the best part of all. One very steep hill is nearing quickly and you hang on so hard, for fear of slipping backwards. We stop for a break and witness this real-to-life dream. Not a detail is missing. At the top is a breath-taking panoramic view! The sky is the brightest you've ever seen and clear as glass. The tall, vivid green pines in the gorgeous valley and below and that surround you reach beyond the heavens and dewy grass and sparkling yellow and lavender flowers cover the hillside. On the mountains in the distance are snow-capped peaks. For though it is late April and sunny with a high of 75 the beauty of winter still lumes above. Every image is crystal sharp. Everything about the moment is spectacular and perfect! Perfect is the best word, but yet it doesn't even scratch the surface of our amazing thoughts that describe the scenery and our time together. The brilliant rays of sunshine illuminate everything more as time passes. And it seems as if a blink of an eye it's time to head back to base. But before departing you gingerly carve your names into the soft bark of a tree. You take one more mental picture and hop on the back of the bike, gently wrapping your arms around their waist and think of the symbol you just made to remain for eternity of a wonderful day in Paradise.

To the Moon

Right off Kit Carson Rd. rests a quiet and humble Inn, the El Monte Lodge. I check it at the office and take the gravel driveway. On the left are six units, individual adobe style duplexes. It is very homey looking. My room for the night is uniquely decorated and the artwork isn't even nailed to the walls. There is a keva fireplace in the corner that looks inviting and cozy. As I walk out of the doorway, before me is a lush grassy yard. Huge cottonwood trees loom around the perimeter. Between two limbs hang two swings – one wooden on twice, the other a modern child's basket swing. A grandfather walks along, holding the hand of his toddler granddaughter. A dog comes trotting to the scene when he whistles. They reach the swings and he tenderly places her within the care of her swing. He pushes the swing gently and then higher. “To the moon,” he shouts! “Higher” she cries between giggles. “To Venus!” he declares. She has a big, toothy grin and the cutest dimples. “To Mars” You can just see the love between the two of them.

Untitled

By light of a kerosene lantern a dim and soft shadow is cast upon the wall. It is still except for the hand that moves across a paper. A young girl of eighteen sits to document the days events and imagine upon the olden days. She has lit the lantern for nostalgia's sake. Its scent is an unusual encounter in the year 2010. Though somehow it's different sitting on a Tempur-pedic bed with the convenience of a light switch two feet away. So much has changed since her childhood, let alone since that of generations' before her. Within the last few years has come the invention of person laptops, DVDs and BlueRay, cell phones, mp3 players, and electronic storage devices of all kinds and minute sizes. Just to name a few items. Let alone the attitude of kids' these days or the fast-paced American rat race. Times are unreal. How they have advanced. But is progress good or bad? Sometimes she wonders what it would be like to grow up in the 1920s when life was “hard,” yet simple. People seemed to be so much happier. To put in a full day's work of manual labor and then come home to a hand made meal and sit before a blazing fire to darn socks. To see far away pictures only in expensive books or museums and dream of traveling. What would it be like? Children of today will never know. That past generation is fading and it is up to us to preserve what knowledge of it is left. It is up to you and me to learn for ourselves and teach future generations. Once it's gone there is no turning back to recover it. Let's do our part. Let's be the best people of character that we can and change the future for good.

Home

Home is where the heart is, but she just couldn't wait to get out of this God forsaken land. Jane's husband was a building contractor and this around they were in the desolate New Mexico desert. Sure, they had a nice house, but you couldn't enjoy it with the wind constantly blowing. Dirt devils were all too common and you could rarely find a day to open the windows and let fresh air in. But every day, just as the sun crept low in the sky all would still, long enough for you to grab a rocker on the back porch and watch the sunset. That was the one thing she admired about the desert, the beautiful colors caused by the dirt particles in the air. It looked as if God took his paint brush and smeared soft streaks around. The subsiding winds rested long enough to honor the dying light and then the temperatures would drop so drastically that you'd best find shelter and warmth. Even in the summer the desert became an icebox at night. For miles, as far as the eye could see, nothing dotted the horizon; the land was barren and no vegetation existed. They were blessed to have a well that had a mysteriously abundant supply of pure water. (.M.Ja.18.10.) Until they could return to the wonderful and green Northwest, she settled to be satisfied and grow where she was planted. Idaho was where they had left behind their hearts and dear precious friends and loved ones. How could one not desire for a land where color is abundant and natural lakes are plentiful. You could actually enjoy being out of doors and breathe air without fear of choking to death. It was a glorious land that Jane missed tremendously. But she daily chose to be happy and a pleasant person, rather than bitter. Shouldn't we all decide to be a joyous person, whom is the sunlight in a cloudy and gloomy world.
Through Christ I can do all things.

Commitment

New Year's Resolution. I contemplate upon the past year just before the clock strikes midnight. I contemplate upon what the coming year and decade will hold? So many unknowns in life, so many changes just around the bend. I pray to God and commit my life into His hands. For He knows me best and what I can withstand. I choose to let Him lead me every step of the way

Joy

Joy in the Journey. Patience is having tolerance while expressing joy. Joy unspeakable.