In Other’s Words | “A quiet and modest life”

“A quiet and modest life brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.” ~Albert Einstein

God Who Sustains

Where Winter meets Spring, there is a quietude, or chaos. Sometimes it is the whirling madness of feet of snow and frigid cold, and a rapid melt that runs off in floods. Other times, it is a gentle meeting, where the air is kind and the sky is kinder, and the moisture comes sweetly as an answer to prayer.

I love the days that follow, like yesterday, when the sun rises on a quiet earth. The clouds break. A bluebird sky domes over the snow-clad world that basks in the chill warmth of the not-quite-spring sun. There isn’t a breath of wind and the only disturbance is the occasional hush of a sound as a snowy burden slips from the boughs of a heavy-laden pine, swirling away with a glossy sheen.

Or other days, like today, when the strange mixture of the warm morning sunlight on a chill and damp world causes fog to roll in waves over the plains, coming to lap against our ridge like waves against a shore . The fog was shallow, not even covering the rural electric lines, and the flat top of Potato Butte to our north was just visible, emerging from a sea of white. Blue was overhead, and in the expanse of blue was a north-bound skein of geese, and then another, in the telltale flight of springtime.

And how easy it is to forget God’s faithfulness, His provision, and that He truly does hear our prayers. There are bad years and there are good years, and both come from the hand of a loving and kind God. We can get so wrapped up in counting hundredths of an inch of rain, or willing those clouds to drop their moisture for us, praying for snow then praying that it hold off, all the while forgetting that those 15 hundredths of an inch of rain, that dusting of snow, that foot of snow, all came from the hand of God and wouldn’t have fallen otherwise.

There are so many passages in Scripture that remind us of what we already know, that it is God Who changes the seasons, God Who brings the rain, God Who sends the snow and feeds His creatures. I love these verses from Psalm 104.

You make springs gush forth in the valleys;
    they flow between the hills;
From your lofty abode you water the mountains;
    the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

You cause the grass to grow for the livestock
    and plants for man to cultivate,
that he may bring forth food from the earth.

O Lord, how manifold are your works!
    In wisdom have you made them all.
(Ps. 104:10, 13, 14, 24)

But we are so quick to forget! Quick to receive and slow to give thanks! But this beautiful collision of winter and spring can be a reminder…It is to me. A reminder that it is God Who changes the seasons, and it is because of His sovereignty and His wonderful creative design of this world that “all things hold together.” (Col. 1:17) He has sustained and He will continue to sustain.

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.” (Gen. 8:22)

To Dream of Spring

It started like the snow in a snow-globe, turned topsy turvy by eager hands. Yesterday’s sky dropped a mesmerizing whirl of big, beautiful flakes like downy feathers, falling straight and true like so many stars, then falling thicker, then accumulating.

A snowfall settles like an enchantment. Dazzling the eyes, the snow transforms. It really is splendid, the way the mundanest of things suddenly become things of surpassing beauty, behind a shimmering curtain of snowflakes. Even a clothespin – a clothespin! – has an otherwordly delight about it, under a dainty cap of snow. So soon, the lines will be heavy with freshly washed laundry, not with snow.

With painterly precision, with spell-binding beauty, the homely ponderosa is made resplendent in a wonderland of white, even as the light is dimming from the sky. Things rusted and worn take on a beauty not their own.

The drab brown of worn out fields and tired earth are covered over with the bright promise of relief, of spring, of the so-needed moisture. Parched earth is mercifully given drink and spirits rise at small answers to prayer. A whirling spring snowfall like this one elevates and cleanses and heals and refreshes and restores.

We walked our normal evening loop, the snow plastering us from head to toe. The snowflakes were sweet on my tongue and easy to catch. I wasn’t wearing a cap with a brim and the snow caught in my eyelashes and flew straight into my eyes and melted all over my face. But the air was kind with coming spring, not bitter with the bite of winter. Even the animals felt it. The pups raced around with insane energy, unphased, unchilled. The horses galloped hill after hill, turning to face me, then running, turning then running, the snowy energy coursing in their veins as well.

And so the sun set on an altered world, asleep under a downy blanket, to dream of spring.

Josie Stole My Little Heart

So I haven’t written much about Josie, and I really don’t know why. She was our first puppy clever enough to figure out how to escape the enclosure in the house, and got stepped on by Elvis and scared me half to death when the pups were older and sleeping in the barn. She limped out of hiding, crying pitifully and holding her little stepped-on leg up, and came straight to me to be held. Bess got to experience her first day on the job and got her own blog post, but apparently Josie just got lumped in with Bess and has been kind of overlooked.

Josie at this point has had many first days on the job! These pups are so intelligent and showing promise of being cowy, and it has already been a treat to watch their instincts start to come out. Bess goes nuts when she hears Brad yelling at cows and barrels down the hill to find him. Josie is a little more subdued, but this morning when we were gathering cows from the calving lot into the corrals, Josie took a leap off the fourwheeler and ran to help get the cows rounded up. She managed to not get stepped on.

From the get-go, I guess I thought Bess would be my dog and Josie would be Brad’s, but somehow things got turned upside down and this little dog stole my little heart. And oh my goodness, is she a faithful little companion! She has been my lap-warmer during my morning devotions or when I’m writing, she’s my chicken chores buddy, and revels in our walks. She likes riding in the tractor, she doesn’t have her ATV legs yet, and she is fast. Very fast. She can also be extremely slow and has this irritating and adorable habit of plunking her little butt down and tilting her head to the side when she hears her name and is pretending she doesn’t remember it. Naptime is sacred as is her bedtime, and before bed potty breaks are met with dramatic resistance and suddenly forgetting how to walk. She likes cheese and hotdogs, and doesn’t like spinach. She follows me around the kitchen and preemptively “downs” when she thinks I might give her something. She thinks she has me figured out.

As far as her name is concerned, when I name a critter it is usually just because the name somehow fits. And then it sticks, and that’s that. And given Brad’s track record of names like “Yellow Cat” and “Grey Cat,” I don’t take any chances. But Josie’s dad’s name is Joe, and her grandpa was Jonas, so Josie seemed appropriate.

Welcome to the crew, Josie girl!