On Eagle's Wings

[(written on 1-4-2010 by Caley Janelle Schumacher. Inspired by Junelle Pellow McCombs.) Before me is a scene that is almost too amazing for humans eyes to behold. The grandeur is overwhelming. Through a meadow of lush green grass, runs a young boy around the age of three. So sweet and innocent. He blazes along with a forest of evergreens on either side and the silhouette of glorious mountains looming beyond. The ripple of a brook inside the woods echoes softly through the rustling limbs. The sky is a clear baby blue and a few fluffy white clouds spot the horizon. An eagle soars above on a gentle breeze, gliding as if there weren't a care in the world. For not even the fall of a sparrow goes unnoticed before our Maker and He cares for everyone so tenderly. The sunbeams cast upon the eagle's glossy feathers and a perfect shadow falls upon the field. The little boy sees the shadow and begins to chase after it. His small steps are many, but he doesn't give up or lose heart. He stumbles over a mound of dirt and a prairie dog curiously appears. A rabbit pauses by the trees and watches the young lad as he races by. Then a cloud shield the sun and just in time to give the chubby legs a rest. But my thoughts still linger upon the eagle's shadow. How uniform and perfect it was, how realistic and true. We need to be parallel to the Son, so that His rays of character may cast perfect representations of Him through us for others to see. Let us be true to His likeness.] ['But what happens when we live God's way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way fruit appears in an orchard - things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.' (Galatians 5:22-23) 'Summing it up friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy - the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse.' (Philippians 4:8)]

Zoey Rae Mitchell

[(written on 12-30-09, edited on 12-31-09)

Zoey Rae was born today,

She decided to not wait another day.

Mother and baby are doing great.

She made her appearance right past eight.

Just over seven pounds,

Which made Mom's tummy oh, so round.

Nineteen and a half inch long,

Sends her Daddy's heart into song.

Her big sister is in awe

At the bundle of joy she just saw.

One, two, three, four, and five toes

And one cute little button nose.

Eyes of wonder

Cause one to ponder

The mystery of life and yonder.

Rest in Mommy's arms at ease.

Rest, sweet Zoey, in heavenly peace.

Christmas Eve

[(written 12-23-09) I stand at the kitchen window, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, preparing for an elaborate dinner. Outside everything looks so bleak and dreary; the colors of summer have long faded to grays and browns. Doubtful thoughts ring through my mind. "Will we even have a white Christmas?" The sky is a flat blue and spotted with dirty white clouds; however, there is not a slight sign of fluffy flakes. I continue washing some cherry tomatoes. The radio plays holiday music that we all enjoy. But it's hard to be in a real Christmas spirit when no winter wonderful exists. The sun sets early in December, but some daylight still lingers. I glance out the window again, trying to imagine a sparkling blanket covering the yard. But something floats by on the breeze and catches my eye. I pause and stare closer. Could it be? "No, don't get your hopes up," I say to myself. Then faintly specks of snow begin to fall through the air, pulled gently by gravity. "No way! It's snowing! This cannot be!" A dream come true! Now it is really beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I finish kitchen duties and retreat to the sofa with a hot mug of cocoa, a blazing hearth, a brightly decorated and illuminated evergreen, and a joyful heart that is bursting at the seams!]

The Incident

Who knew that a kid's desire to be noticed would cause such a ruckus?
It was a chilly morning in late November. My cousin, Nathan, and I were looking out the window, anticipating the start of the benefit race. Finally, as participants began to pass by, we offered encouraging words, such as "Good job," "keep it up," and an occasional "Happy Turkey Day!" People seemed to appreciate our enthusiasm; however, we soon became bored and our language careless.
Our words took on a different spirit when we began to shout, "Ah, come on... You can do better than that." Less attention was returned out way, so we changed our strategy.
This time my cousin and I pulled out the cap guns and innocently "shot" them off, imitating the start of a race. Nobody seemed to give us heed, until we brought attention to ourselves by proclaiming, "Bang, BANG!" A police-woman, who had been standing on the corner, turned toward us with a displeased look. We made light of it and grinned at her. This did little to save us. The officer gently smiled and then sternly rebuked us, stating she'd be over to "visit" once her duty was complete. We anxiously scuttled down the stairs, hoping she would forget.
But not long afterward there was a knock at the door. My aunt called us over and we "fessed" up. The lady was nice enough to calmly explain why guns, real or fake, are dangerous and not to be messed around with.
Today, we are thankful that this incident didn't mar our records. We are even more grateful for the priceless lesson we learned that Thanksgiving morning: never point a gun, real or fake, at anybody. We have remembered this ever since.

Tunes of Christmas Delight

[(written on 12-4-09) The coldest morning of the season and all is still. Today the clouds have lifted and as the sky lights up I catch my first glimpse of the snow covered peaks, my heart warmed. The sun rises higher. By 8:00 AM they sky is a clear, crisp, bright blue and the snow sparkles like a crystal. But even thought it looks so cheery outside, the temperature still remains at -5.9F The branches are bowed down under the weight of the flakes. I'll remain indoors today, snuggled up on the sofa with a warm shawl, a crackling hearth, a purring kitten, with a steamy cup of tea. I pull out my basket of yarn and begin to crochet a cozy afghan. The old record player expels tunes of Christmas delight and the lights that deck the tree shine their joy. What a wonderful holiday season!]

A Special Place in My Heart

The scrumptious aroma of warm peach cobbler, gingersnaps, cinnamon apple cider, and pine needles fills the kitchen. But it's the scent of a crisp and toasty pumpkin pie that evokes the thought of my favorite holiday! Thanksgiving holds a special place in my heart: from the delicious dinner my aunts always prepare to window-shopping in Old Town. I love when snow falls outside and we are left to the indoors. I love watching the Thanksgiving Day Macy's parade, decorating gingerbread houses, cheering on the runners of the benefit turkey race, and giggling at something silly. But when it is reasonably warm enough outside, I love bundling up and strolling down the lane on a chilly evening, mittens on and bellies stuffed. I love throwing snowballs at my cousins and sledding down the slopes. But it is ever so nice to retreat to a warm home where a mug of hot cocoa awaits. There we can be found singing Christmas carols, baking holiday treats, and savoring the flavor of juicy pomegranates. But most of all, I love just spending time together as a family. All these things put together are what make Thanksgiving the most enjoyable week of the year and cause me to long for that fourth Thursday in November. I canNOT wait!

Up Bunco Road

[(.W.O.29.09) Up Bunco Rd. That's where they'll go. Up Bunco, to the mountains, along the winding roads. Some corners are sharp, but Alan carefully guides his '93 grey Nissan pick-up around the curves. He has a priceless treasure beside him, his sweet and beautiful girlfriend, Ella. The road branches off. They take the path that is narrow. Soon it becomes a one lane trail. On a normal day they'd be holding hands, unless he had to shift gears. And the radio would be tuned in, quietly playing a sweet country song. But on this tense road, all of Alan's attention must be on the navigation. That's not to say that his mind isn't thinking about the most amazing girl next to him. The road weaves along the side of the mountain, towering pines on either side and huckleberry bushes from the previous season are shriveled up. The air is cool and crisp. Rain clouds are scattered on the horizon and hang all above, clouding an direct sunlight. The trees are changing colors and the leaves are falling from their branches. They finally reach their destination. It is Alan's "secret" place where he likes to dirt bike on summer days. He's been wanting to bring the girl of his dreams here from quite a while. They get out of the truck. They walk, hand-in-hand, down a short trail that leads to a ledge. The golden autumn leaves crinkle beneath each footstep. At the edge is a breath-taking panorama. Below is Lake Shining Pond, named by the French Indians. A mist hovers just above the water's surface. The colors are so calming. It causes one to ponder deep thoughts. All Ella can think about is how wonderful and caring her boyfriend is. How perfect this moment is. How romantic. Her brown locks of glossy curls are softly blown by a chilly breeze. She stands there, enjoying the scenery and being held in Alan's arms. She is left unusually speechless. The whole moment is indescribable. All is silent, except for the howling wind and the beating of their hearts. Alan tenderly kisses her head, they take one last view, and turn to go build a fire to warm their hands by. (written on 11-1-09)]