Reflections on the Rainbow

Posted on July 18, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

An evening spent at Rainbow Bible Ranch is an evening well-spent. We picked Anna up from camp yesterday evening, and I was filled with so many fond remembrances of my summers at Rainbow, and the blessings I enjoyed through Larry and Robin Reinhold and their wonderful family. After the rodeo and dinner, we had a little rain and were blessed by the appearance of a rainbow. It got me to thinking.

Genesis 6 records the beginning of Noah’s story, and how God came to destroy the earth with a Flood. The earth had become wicked, and the people had turned away from God and were totally corrupt.

^{Genesis 6:5}The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. ⁶And the Lord was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. ⁷So the Lord said, “I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the land, man and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.” ⁸But Noah found favour in the eyes of the Lord.

God was good enough and merciful enough to bless Noah and his family, and to preserve them as the seed by which God would re-populate the earth. After the Flood, God gave this promise to Noah and his family, the only people on the earth that were righteous in God’s sight:

^{Genesis 9:7}And you, be fruitful and multiply, teem on the earth and multiply in it.”

⁸Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, ⁹“Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring after you, ¹⁰and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the livestock, and every beast of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark; it is for every beast of the earth. ¹¹I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” ¹²And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: ¹³I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. ¹⁴When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, ¹⁵I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh. And the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. ¹⁶When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” ¹⁷God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.”

God has gifted us with this sign, a sign and covenant that still remains, and a sign that we all – Christian and atheist alike – still marvel at. A beautiful rainbow stretching from horizon to horizon, a prism in the clouds, prompting ancient Greeks and Romans to associate it with the steps of a beautiful goddess, for others to associate it with a pot of gold and wishes granted. But in truth, it is a beautifully haunting and comforting reminder that there is a God in the heavens, still powerful over this world and triumphant over evil. When God makes a covenant, it lasts for all time.

It is fitting to remember that this is the true meaning of the rainbow. Whatever other meaning other groups may attempt to assign to the rainbow, we cannot escape the fact that the God of the Universe, the Creator of the rainbow, gifted this sign as a symbol of judgement and preservation. The rainbow represents God’s love for mankind, fulfilled in his son, Jesus Christ. The rainbow represents God’s justice, his righteous, wrathful justice, which we can escape through belief in Christ and his redemptive sacrifice upon the cross. The rainbow represents by extension, then, God choosing to adopt as his children those of a sinful, fallen race who have given their lives to Christ. The rainbow represents God’s mercy, in preserving a righteous family through which to re-populate the reborn world. The rainbow represents a promise to preserve a remnant.

According to His Word and to His covenant, God will not again destroy the earth by flood. But He will come, His Son will come again, not as a suffering servant but as a triumphant king, to judge all the world. Are you ready for His return?

Not just a silver lining

Posted on July 16, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

So sometimes you just have to find a silver lining. Like with this hail storm we had day before yesterday. I could whine and complain about the work we put into the garden that was wasted, I could complain about the beautiful tree we lost that fell on our beautiful Miner’s Cabin (the cabin is fine–One branch is going be fun getting down, though…), I could complain about the mess, the leaves everywhere, the matted lawn, the millions of sticks and branches, etc…

But I choose to find a silver lining. At least we have firewood! And guess what? It is hardwood, which means it will burn slower. Great. There’s a silver lining.

We also managed to salvage a bowl of radishes from our square-foot gardening frames. There’s a silver lining. The great thing about radishes is that the leaves can be destroyed, but the roots are fine! So now we have radishes.

But even when something is explained simply as being a silver lining, I believe that silver lining is a gift from God, sweetening an event that might be bitter otherwise.

He gives these little gifts, if we’re willing to see them as such. Whether it is a dew-spangled spiderweb on an early morning walk, or three piles of wood ready to be cut into firewood in the aftermath of a hail storm, God sends little gifts our way as a reminder, I believe, of his goodness. In this world, stuff happens. But God is there, an ever-present help in time of trouble, and an ever-present friend in times of plenty.

Sister date

Posted on July 16, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

I know the Fourth of July came and went almost two weeks ago, but I wanted to share some pictures from my family’s Independence Day. Mom and Dad were on their way back home from Illinois, unfortunately, and Anna had to work during the day, but Sarah and I took full advantage of our day off and drove through the beautiful Spearfish Canyon.

We’ve already started planning another drive sometime this fall, both to see the leaves change and to drive it when there are fewer tourists, but it was still a lovely trip. The wonder of God’s creation is truly amazing. And what is amazing is that God has not only left His fingerprints so clearly impressed in this world, but He has also allowed for there to be beauty in the results of something so devastating as a global flood. Not only did He give us the rainbow after the flood to remind us both of His judgement and His goodness in preserving a remnant, but He has left memories of the flood in places like the Black Hills, the Grand Canyon, and countless other places that were the result of the judgement of God on a wicked world. But I digress.

Sarah and I drove up to Spearfish, made a hasty stop at Walmart to get cold kombucha to drink (we were both getting drowsy–It was hot out!), and then drove down the canyon. We stopped here and there along the way to take pictures, and I added a few photographs to my growing botany portfolio.

Bridal Veil Falls was beautiful, but about fifty other people thought the same thing. Tourists. Bless their hearts. They stood around on the deck not even looking at the Falls, but just taking up space. Not many pictures happened this time around. So we’ll take another drive.

Roughlock Falls, however, was even more spectacular. It isn’t as tall as Bridal Veil, but it is tiered and simply gushes water. It is about a mile off the main road, plus a little walk to see the full beauty of the Falls, and it was well worth it. Fewer people were flocking Roughlock, since it was so far off the beaten path, and the walking paths were lined with wild roses, geranium, thimbleberry, violets, and countless other greenery. What a beautiful trail!

In the evening, we picked up Anna and headed to Custer to see the fireworks, and met a friend there. It was a quiet, simple Independence Day. Glad to spend it with friends and family.

The mother of invention

Posted on July 15, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

The air smells of wounded pines and churning earth. Hail in sprawling drifts looks like snow, then piles of rough-cut diamonds, then destruction. The grass is flattened in the ditches, in our yard, and any depression, however small, is full of red mud water. The hail evaporates, feeding the growing presence of fog hanging heavy in the air.

After making it through all previous hail storms relatively unscathed, two weeks after the storm that took down a few trees and filled our ditches, our little valley was pounded again with rain and hail. An inch and a half of rain, and hail. The garden is gone, more trees and branches are down, and water is pouring into the dam. Even though it was too dark to see, I could hear water rushing in the corrals, in places where there is never water. Our ridge became a waterfall, and more rockslides happened.

The aftermath is quite enough to dampen spirits. Mom worked hard on the garden, and to a certain extent we were counting on it for this fall. However, I know God is good and gracious, and he is not a God of whim or malice. I think back to the pioneers, the first homesteaders, who weren’t just counting on their garden: their lives were depending on it. The survival of their crops meant enough money to buy food to last through the winter into the next growing season. It meant a surplus of five dollars to add to the dollar they already had in the bank. They depended on it. We only hoped our garden would turn out this year. It looks like it won’t. But I’m already working on some mental notes for a hail screen. Necessity is the mother of invention.

June | In Hindsight

Posted on July 9, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Cynoglossum officinale – Houndstongue, Hound’s Tongue, Gypsyflower

June was a month of flying days, crazy calendars, and a frantic sense of not quite keeping up. I’m actually kind of glad it is over. The hecticness that has characterized the last four or six weeks is part of the reason that I’m a week and a half into July before getting to my reflection on June! Oh, well.

In a bit of a rush, I took a second job at the very beginning of June, so I’ve been working four days a week in Hill City, leaving at 9:00 in the morning to open the Mercantile at 10:00 and getting home at 9:00 at night after closing Farmer’s Daughter at 8:00 or 8:15. On the days I don’t go to Hill City, I’ve been working one or both of those days in Hermosa for Jack. In other words, I’ve been busy!

It has taught me a few things about myself, however, which is always a good thing. 1) I really don’t like tourists enough to sustain this schedule long-term. 2) I really love being at home. Working in Hill City leaves me drained, and sure brings out the homebody in me. So it sort of kindles that fire to get my own business set up, so I’m not having to leave home quite as often, or for such a long time each day.

We also enjoyed some unique weather and golf-ball sized hail, which amazingly did not destroy the garden! Rather miraculous.

Starting the second week of June, I was taking an online class in doll clothes design, which turned out to be a great crash course in a lot of things I think I already instinctively did in my sewing, which was great. Doing things instinctively can be nice, but to actually realize what you’re doing and why is even better. Then you can consciously focus on them, and focus on honing those skills. So I now have the beginnings of a lovely design inspiration book, and am gearing up for the pattern drafting class in October! Very excited.

Towards the end of June, we also got to meet and visit with some dear family from Texas. Mom’s cousin, Russel, whom she hadn’t seen in 25 years, brought his wife and three daughters up to South Dakota for vacation. They parked their camper outside our cabin, and we had breakfasts together, dinners together, and really enjoyed a sweet time of fellowship and companionship. It was a blessing to meet them. I’ve never had many girl cousins in my own age bracket, so it was fun to have three more who fit that category! We did some hiking, exploring of ghost-towns, picture taking, and enjoyed some great conversation.

June was a good month. I’m glad the craziness of it is over (it kind of has stuck with me in July, but a month of it is past!), and I’m looking forward to getting my life more balanced, but I guess that is part of getting settled in to a new home. Lots of changes still happening. It may feel like home, but June is kind of a reminder that we’re still figuring things out with our new life here.

Gotta love the journey.

Too much of a good thing

Posted on June 26, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

You know, in a week or so when it dries out, or later this summer when it isn’t raining anymore, we’ll all be wishing for more of this weather. And I know, I know–In comparison with the flooding down south, in Texas and Oklahoma, I’ve got nothin’ to complain about. We are now in a record-breaking June, as far as precipitation is concerned.

A thunderstorm rolled over the Hills this afternoon and dumped 1.4 inches on us in about an hour. The ground is already saturated and before too long the ditches were all churning with muddy water. A nearby practice arena was a lake, and a dam on our driveway that never has water in it probably had at least four feet of water!

I drove in from work, noticing all the water along the driveway, but was shocked to find that two of our huge cottonwood trees had snapped off. One of them completely blew down, leaving ten feet or so of trunk, and the other lost half of its bulk when one of the trunks broke off.

There was hail, smaller than pea-sized, piled on the mat in front of the door and I immediately wondered if we’d have a little water on the floor inside, since the seal around the door isn’t very tight. I was greeted with a mess. Water was everywhere, and I couldn’t figure out where it had come from! It was splashed about on the table, a rug by the hallway was soaking wet, the floor was puddled, and the dry erase boards on the refrigerator had smeared and dripped.

Then I realized the windows were open. We have a five- or six-foot overhang on our roof, so usually the open windows are fine during a storm, but the same straight-line winds that toppled trees and bent over some garden stakes blew straight in our kitchen window and soaked everything, including the refrigerator across the room. Jars with silverware in them had a good half-inch of water in the bottoms, the chair cushions were damp or soaked, and I’m sure the kittens were terrified. What a mess!

Amazingly, nothing much was permanently damaged, and we were able to dry the kitchen out. And the tree by the Miner’s Cabin miraculously didn’t topple on the cabin itself! We have a few more rock slides along the driveway, or the slides are getting bigger, but all’s well and safe. Two hours later, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the birds were singing again.