Then Sings My Soul!

Posted on June 17, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Writing

It is so easy to take family for granted. They’re there. All the time. Or so we think, until they aren’t. But all of us will one day die. Only God knows when that will be, and His timing is truly perfect. But as I’ve watched my grandmother age, particularly over the last couple of years, I know with keen sadness, and yet with eagerness for her, that her time is coming soon when the LORD will take her home. She is almost 95 years old, and a couple of strokes have wrecked havoc on her once-sharp mind, leaving her often confused and uncertain, sometimes not knowing who we are. But God in His mercy has given her peace. We were singing hymns tonight as a family, something we used to enjoy more frequently when we all lived in the same house or were all home more in the evenings, but this was done specifically for Grandma, since she has been requesting it lately. I wasn’t particularly eager to sing and play the piano tonight. I was tired, and had a lot to do getting ready for another marathon week. We sang some old favorites, each requesting those which we remembered first or found first as we flipped pages in our hymnals.

“Oh, Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed…” we sang together. One of my favorite hymns. Oh, heavens, one of my favorite hymns. Dad’s warm baritone blended in imperfect sweetness with Sarah’s and Mom’s harmonies. I always love hearing our little family chorus.

Then I glanced up from my place at the piano. There was Grandma, her frail body and grey head bent over the hymnal, holding it firmly in her twisted, weak hands. Her lips, which often betray the confusion in her mind or tremble in the infirmity of age, were perfectly shaping the words of this wonderful hymn. I couldn’t hear her, since she was across the room from me, but I know she was singing. My eyes filled and I could hardly choke out the next words:

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And lead me home, what joy shall fill my heart
Then I shall bow with humble adoration
And then proclaim, my God, how great Thou art.

Hymns have a way of piercing my heart in its hardness, and of reminding me of those things that truly matter, even when my mind is distracted and out of sorts. To see my Grandma, who often cannot carry on a coherent conversation anymore, joining us in singing praises to God brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful picture of how God renews the soul, even as the body wears down and wastes away.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” ~ 2 Corinthians 4:16

Our world spurns age. Age is something to be avoided, like a disease, but a disease that everyone ultimately succumbs to. Age is something to be ridiculed, and dementia and frailty are things to be mocked and despised. Age is feared, desperately. Physical signs of age are causes of embarrassment and distress. And if I’m honest with myself, I fall into this thinking, valuing youth more than I should. How contrary to Biblical admonitions, and how contrary to truth. For those who have placed their hope in Christ Jesus, those who are oldest are most likely the closest to seeing Christ face to face. Not only do the elderly among us deserve our respect for obvious reasons, but even in the infirmities and sorrows and pain that come with age, Grandma is in an enviable situation: one day soon, likely much sooner than I, she will stand in the presence of Christ. And even though a lot of what goes on around her isn’t clear to her, it is clear to me that Christ is clear to her. Soon, He will be even clearer.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art.

Hiking | Mount Baldy

Posted on April 22, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under hiking, Photography, Writing

Mount Baldy is behind Mount Rushmore. Old Baldy is near Spearfish. However, some maps have Mount Baldy labeled as Old Baldy. And the register box at the top of Mount Baldy says “Old Baldy.” Someone got their wires crossed, somewhere along the line. Anyway, it was a beautiful day for a hike, and to Mount Baldy we went. We had a group of thirteen, I think, trekking cheerily through the springing afternoon. The trails and sights in the Mount Rushmore area are truly stunning. The granite spires pierce from the ground towards the sky. Large boulders perch precariously on top of larger boulders, which is essentially what Mount Baldy is. A very, very large boulder pile.Moss and kinnikinnick provided lush ground cover, and stands of stately aspen caught the sunlight in their white branches. They, too, will be green soon. Cairns were stacked carefully at intervals along the less-visible part of the trail. They were few enough that not seeing them didn’t mean we weren’t on the right trail, but seeing them suggested that we were. I’m not going to attempt to provide any sense of direction for this hike, or what trails to take, other than to say that the trailhead is at the Wrinkled Rock climbing area, the segment of the trail we did was only about 3.5 or 4 miles round trip, and the right direction is up. If you can go higher, you’re not there yet. It is an exhilarating chore to get to the top. A fair amount of elevation gain is packed into a relatively short hike. The last 20 or so minutes to the top is nothing short of a rough scramble, finding foot and hand holds on steep rock faces, squirming up narrow and deep crevasses. I’ve never been much for scrambling. Perhaps I’ve taken too many falls on level ground, and had one too many close calls on the ladder up to our loft bedroom. Clumsiness creates some paranoia. But I have to say, it was great fun. And the views from the top were unbelievably beautiful.
We didn’t linger at the top, since a freezing gale was blowing up there and we’d left the warmth a few levels down. We admired the views, signed the register, snapped some pictures, and scrambled and slid back down the way we had come. The sun was just getting low when we got back to the trailhead. A great afternoon hike. The perfect hike to kick off the spring hiking season!

Breathtaken by Aspens

Posted on April 21, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

Just behind our cabin and against an old gate grows a stand of slender aspen trees. No one knows why Grandpa planted them against the gate, but that’s where he planted them, and that’s where they’re flourishing. They’re placed just so, so that when seen from the cabin in the morning hours in the summer, the leaves glow and flicker and glint like little green flames. And in the spring when their catkins are blooming, when the morning sunlight catches in the little hairs in just the right way, the aspens and their grey and pink catkins become a pale cloud of silvery, shimmering lights. The effect is breathtaking, startling, and a slightest change in the light breaks the spell.
How often that is the case! Something of exquisite beauty cuts us to the soul, and fades as quickly as it appeared. I think that is part of God’s goodness, to show us glimpses of breathtaking beauty, but then, as if to remind us that we aren’t meant for this world, He leaves us with the only memory of it and a desire for more. Perhaps that is one reason I love photography – I can try to capture that memory and hold it dear a little longer, a little nearer, and remember it a little clearer. What delight!

Greening Up

Posted on April 17, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Scenic, Writing

During and after the Legion Lake Fire, a lot of tears were shed (figuratively and literally) over the devastation wreaked upon the beautiful landscape of Custer State Park and Wind Cave National Park. Of course wildfire is devastating, and it is terrible and terrifying when it threatens human habitation, but it is a natural process necessary to the health of the wilderness ecosystem. No, the landscape will not be the same. Yes, it will be changed. Yes, the land will bear the scars of that devastation for years to come. And this picture is glorious proof of the renewal that comes from that same devastation, mere months after the fact.

It is a uniquely human desire for things to “never change.” What is there in this life that “never changes?” Nothing. Change is a good thing. Yet we cling to the familiar, and instinctively react to change as if it was an evil, when in reality that change, though painful, may be God’s way of strengthening us, renewing us, shaping us, and making us more like His Son.
The black is greening up. And one thing is certain…the buffalo and other critters eating that tender, young grass are definitely not complaining. So drive through the Parks and make mental note, and then drive them again later this spring, and summer, and next year. God has equipped them to be renewed. So in a strange, haunting way, even the burned areas are beautiful.

Ember

Posted on March 29, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

One year (plus a little) ago, Anna gifted me with the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me, the little cat, Ember. The spontaneity is part of what made the gift so sweet. But Ember was a creature Anna knew I would love. And she was so right.
When she first became mine, she was a flighty, timid little thing that I doubted would ever be a house pet. She was scared of everything, scared of the dogs, scared of the ordeal of getting past the dogs to come into the house, scared of any sudden movement, etc., etc., etc. So I also doubted that she would ever be my cat, in the sense that she would respond particularly to me. Now, cats aren’t exactly lauded for their human bonds and really have kind of a reputation in the other direction, but over the months, Ember has become very specifically my cat. Enough so that she went on a hunger strike while I was in Alaska over the summer, and the tiny cat became the emaciated cat. She’s better now.

What a transformation little Ember has undergone! She went from being a stand-off-ish, aloof creature, to being a lively member of our small household. I love waking up to find her curled up in a little ball in the crook of my knees, or sleeping right on my chest. Frequently she is awake before I am, but as soon as she hears me moving around, she comes up the ladder into the loft, talking and chattering, and begs for attention. She has become a study buddy for some online classes I’ve been taking, and a movie-watching buddy on sister night. She keeps me company when I’m folding laundry, or cooking, or reading, and has her favorite places she likes to hide. She comes to her name, loves to talk, and if she happens to be inside when I get home, she greets me eagerly. What a darling.

People who don’t like cats just haven’t met the right one.

Another Rush of Winter

Posted on March 17, 2018 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

After several days of tantalizingly springlike weather, winter decided it wasn’t moving out just yet. Which is just fine with me. “No travel” advisories were issued, and I hunkered down at home to read, edit pictures, and play in the snow. It was a beautiful, still, gentle snowstorm, with areas in the Hills receiving a foot or more of snow. We received a delightful 7 or 8 inches. And it was a wet snow! Wildflower season is coming up!
As always, Trixie, our snowdog, was positively invigorated and raced around insanely, with a giant goofy grin on her funny little face. I walked up to Grandma’s to get vanilla for snow ice cream, and along the way Trixie found herself a treasure – a deer leg, perfectly intact. She carried it around and gnawed on the nasty thing. She tried to avoid me, since she doesn’t trust us not to take her treasures away, apparently, and finally resorted to burying it.
Over the last few weeks, the birds have really started to sing again, and the birdfeeder up at Grandma’s house is routinely covered with a host of the feathered things. Little bird footprints mark the snow beneath the feeder. The tiny creatures hardly seem to feel the cold. Spring is just around the corner. But for now, I’ll enjoy another rush of winter.