Messages in Bottles

Posted on February 23, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

Rummaging around in a 70-year-old garbage pile is probably not considered socially acceptable. I was thinking about that as I trudged out to the ravine with spades and a large bucket, pulling strands of old barbed wire out of the grass as I went along. Those will be for craft projects. But the trash pile was even better than anticipated, since I seem to have found the “source” pile! I learned a few things about the person who lived here – Pretty sure he drank whiskey and he had false teeth. No, I did not find the teeth. But I found a couple tins of false teeth cleaner! The pile is made up mostly of rusty old tin cans, but digging around we pulled out some interesting-looking glass bottles, a teacup with moss growing inside, an old enamelware bowl, rusted license plates from the 1930s and 1950s, and the head of a pitch fork. It is interesting to think about all the life that has been lived on the family place, people we never knew, people we aren’t related to. Mining, homesteading…living. My mom wanted to know if I was ready to throw away all the trash I had brought home. Well, not really! I have ideas for some of these things. Someone else may have cast them off, but they will be added to my collection of “treasures.” As they say, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”These bottles and the whole notion of treasures bring a number of ideas to mind – How often do we recognize as a treasure only that which has intrinsic worth, or worth that has been assigned materially? How seldom do we recognize as a treasure that which is worthless by material standards, but which has value beyond reckoning? Phrases like “rags to riches” call to mind a Cinderella-type story. Ashes to diamonds…Caterpillars to butterflies. Those phrases resonate with us. Maybe because our Creator put that longing on our hearts, a longing for transformation. And I suppose those are descriptive of the earth-to-Heaven part of the Salvation story. The Salvation story is the adventure of all adventures, the romance of all romances, the rescue of all rescues, the transformation of all transformations, the Bible being the Saga of the story of Salvation. We don’t belong to this world. Read Genesis. We don’t belong here. But what about “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure?” That is a different kind of transformation. The difference between the trash and the treasure isn’t what it is, but whose it is.
These bottles were nothing special when they were in the junk heap, and they’re still nothing special – Except that they belong to me and I happen to think they’re nice. In a sense, isn’t that the story of the Christian? Yes, Biblically there is a heart change that happens at Salvation and we are fundamentally transformed in one sense, and then are progressively transformed throughout our earthly life, and will then be gloriously transformed after death. Change is a result of genuine Salvation. So don’t misunderstand what I’m saying! Yes, there is a change. Ezekiel 36:26 reads: “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a new heart.” But at the moment of Salvation, God doesn’t magically transform our circumstances or our flaws or our sins or our pain or our struggles. He doesn’t suddenly make us angelic creatures that deserve passage into Heaven by our own merit. We have no merit of our own! I was a wretched sinner before I was saved, and I am still a wretched sinner now. I still have a sin nature. I struggle with doubt, fear, pride, gossip, lust, and on and on. Becoming a Christian doesn’t make those things go away automatically. Sometimes, I think it actually intensifies those things, because with the heart change comes a knowledge that the “old way of life” is no longer acceptable, and then ensues the struggle against sin nature. Paul the Apostle recognized this all too well, and cried out in the book of Romans: “I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. ²⁴Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” The Christian is a lot like those bottles and rusted metal. Nothing changed when I pulled them out of the junk heap. They weren’t treasures then and they aren’t treasures now. They aren’t worth anything to anyone. Except to me. Not because they changed. But because they are mine. I have given them meaning. In the same way, God doesn’t change what we are. He changes Whose we are. He gives us His Spirit, and the strength to change. He gives us a new heart. He puts His stamp upon us. He gives us meaning. He makes us treasures. His treasures.

Laura Elizabeth

Simple Joys

Posted on February 16, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Photography, Writing

Winter is a time of brief, fleeting moments of dazzling beauty, of sights and sounds and silences that come and go with as little permanence as a snowflake, but with the brilliance of a diamond. That overwhelming moment is gone in an instant, leaving only the impression on one’s mind. The enchantment of the first snowfall melts in a few hours. The power of a blizzard wears itself out in a day. The snow cover of two months melts in two days. The leaden, snow-laden skies give way to cloudless blue, and winter breezes turn warm and then cold again. How changeable the season is!
Mom and I were able to thoroughly enjoy the delights of the changeable season today – It was strange to be hiking in short sleeves, with 70-degree temperatures and warm, sweet breezes, while trudging through 10-inch drifts and getting snow in our boots! Trixie, ever the snow puppy, pranced and raced and disappeared, entirely in her element. I would call her, only to look around and find her sprawled in a patch of snow, eating it and rolling in it and burying her face in it. A dog’s simple pleasures.
Part of the delight of winter is the joy of seeing things in ways we aren’t accustomed to in the rest of the year, particularly in the summer and spring. Those months are full to bursting with new life, and my attention is so drawn from color to color, from the new blossom like stained glass in the sunlight to the bluebirds on the wire overhead to the new fawns with their unmistakable freckles to the brilliant blue of sky and green of grass. But in the winter, you have to look with different eyes. Then you can see the watercolor painting in the snowfall, the etched crystal work in the frosty window or frozen creek, the tapestry of spun gold in the grasses, the white jewels in the snowdrift.
We were nearing home, walking through an ancient creekbed, when we caught sight of an old bucket, rusted through and almost flattened, and nearby were a bunch of tin cans and some broken glass. I was thrilled. We had found a junk pile from the homesteading or mining days, of which our place saw a good deal! The whole property is pocketed with old mining pits, remnants of bygone days. We dug around a little in the grass, and found four intact glass jars and bottles, and a white enamel pot, which unfortunately is frozen stiff in the dirt. It looks to be in one piece. As soon as it warms up in the spring and the ground thaws out, I want to dig around and see what else was discarded! Who knows how many times we’ve walked past this junk pile in the summer and never saw it for the tall grass! Simple joys on a glorious winter day.

Laura Elizabeth

Pondering

Posted on February 15, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

One thing I love about photography is the changed perspective it provides. Even something as seemingly mundane as last summer’s grasses are enchanting, with the sunlight just so, highlighting the varied textures and colors of the winter. Photography provides an avenue for pondering. I find myself staring again and again at these pictures, even though I don’t consider them particularly good pictures, simply because there is mystery – The mystery of the beauty of Creation. If I sat down in a stand of tall grass without my camera, I would feel the warmth of the sun, the damp of the earth, I would see the blue of the sky and the way the sunlight catches in the fronds of grasses, and I would breathe deep the fragrance of a beautiful day. But with a camera, perspective deepens. Magic happens. Individual moments when the sunlight is perfect, individual stems of grass which could otherwise be lost in the tangle of grasses, individuals leaves and glints and glorious sparks of light, become visible.
I have heard it suggested that one’s perspective is limited detrimentally by the camera. Yes, the camera limits one’s perspective, but I heartily disagree that this limiting is a negative thing. God is infinite, and the many wonders of his Creation reflect that infiniteness. How are we finite human beings to process and understand it all? We can’t! Photography is a means by which we can impress on our mind’s eye more specific glories of God’s Creation. It is all too easy to miss the tree for the forest. In gazing at a whole field of flowers, it is hard to wonder at the flower itself – One instead wonders at the field. Focus smaller, closer, and it is possible to wonder at the actual flower. Photography is an outlet for pondering, for deeply considering, for wonderment and awe and delight.

For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.

Romans 1:20

Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.

Psalm 111:2

Laura Elizabeth

Captivated

Posted on February 5, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Photography, Writing

Truly, I can’t put my finger on it. The magic eludes me. I can see it, and revel in it, but I can’t name it. It is there in the quiet of the snowstorm – So many flakes falling, it should make a sound. But it doesn’t. It is there in the sigh of snow on snow, blowing in ghostly wisps across the road. It is there in the gentle kisses of snowflakes as they brush my cheeks and settle on my eyelashes and in my hair. It is there in the flurry of wind-whipped snow, and the hush, hush underfoot of fresh powder. New icicles glimmer coldly, diamond clear, from the edges of everything. Juniper trees bend beneath their load of white. I still don’t know what it is. It is there in the taste of snow – Sweet and cold and clean, like the sky and air and spring-fresh water. Then there is the pale blue of a winter sky, above the pale almost-blue of the early morning snow. Then the sparkle, the blinding glitter the morning after a snowstorm. The light is more, is bigger, and colder, and more joyful, scattering in a trillion directions from a trillion points of light in the fields. “A million feathers falling down; A million stars that touch the ground.” Enya’s songs often come to mind. With snow falling thickly all around them, Dove and Timber wear blankets of white. The cold bites and stings at the ends of my fingers and the tip of my nose, but they aren’t bothered by the cold, with their luxurious coats, shaggy and warm. Instead, they seem energized, by that something I can’t put my finger on. Timber prances around like a young colt, and even Dove, usually reticent and reserved, frolics after him. What is it that gets into their blood?The Kashka-Cat, black as coal, soft and small, carries herself confidently in the snow. She thinks she’s a house cat. But she isn’t. We try to tell her that, but she doesn’t listen. But sometimes she forgets herself, and we find her prowling about, entirely in her element. I still don’t know what it is about winter. My heart doesn’t thrill to the springtime or the summer the same way it does to the season of snow and ice. I can’t help but feast my eyes on the otherworldly brightness and beauty of fresh snow, of a world transformed. There is a deep delight in waking to a new snow, or driving on Hwy. 40 before the plow has touched it yet. The sunlight peeks over the hill, turning the landscape mirror-bright, highlighting every frond of last summer’s grass, glazed with frost or laden with snow. No two snowfalls are alike, and no two frost-covered mornings have the same magic. But they all have a beauty which is indescribable, a beauty which distracts and inspires and makes my heart sing. Winter, of all seasons, captivates me.

Laura Elizabeth

Happy February!

Posted on February 5, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under Pets/Domestic/Farm Animals, Writing

That was a longer break from blogging than I ever intended to take! January was busy, with the addition of another after-work piano student, and there were also a handful of “technical difficulties,” which have just lately been remedied. So now I have my laptop back in working order and can actually blog again. I’ve gotten quite behind in some of our January adventures, and although I generally don’t like to backtrack (enough pictures to deal with going forward!), we’ve had a few fun explorations which I’d really like to share.

So to get back in the swing of things, here is a charming picture of Trixie for your edification and enjoyment. I really do love unattractive pictures of this dog. She is really photogenic that way. And, boy, does she love snow!
January was a great month, with plenty of wintry weather to satisfy me, and enough nice days to get the jitters out. Excited to see what February holds.

Happy February!

Laura Elizabeth

2016 | In Hindsight

Posted on January 3, 2017 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

Once again, a new year rolls in, the old year suddenly gone and a memory before it seems to even have begun. The new year is always a good time to reflect on God’s faithfulness, which really is the only faithfulness worth reflecting on. I reviewed my New Year’s goals for 2016, and it was a good reminder both of God’s faithfulness in loving me in spite of my failures, as well as of how God grows and refines his children in subtle ways.Unlike the year 2015, which was a year of huge changes and (consequently) very visible growth and maturing, this year has been a slower year. But if I am to be faithful, I need to remind myself that God doesn’t always work in huge, unmistakable ways, but oftentimes (perhaps, most of the time?) works in the subtle shaping of the heart and the inner person. God’s work in big ways is his grace and mercy and lavishness in allowing us to get a glimpse of how he works – God is not obligated to allow us to see his process, but sometimes he does. Much of the time, though, the work is smaller and quieter, harder to see, but that does not mean it is any less real or valuable. Last year around this time, I did my review of 2015 and stated that making lists of the events of a year can be an encouraging reminder of God’s faithfulness. I would say “yes and amen” to that! Re-reading that article from a year ago was an encouraging reminder of God’s goodness, even after what has been something of a dry year this past year.
This was a year of quiet joys and celebrations – The Biblical Counseling Conference in Lafayette, IN, in February, a sister married in April (that was exciting!), family visiting on and off throughout the summer and fall, including my cousin William from Ohio and my Sacramento uncle in the summer, my sister and her husband in early November, and my Alaska cousins just a few weeks ago. There was the rip-roaring fun of summer rodeos and the blessing of church get-togethers.There was the constant reminder of the presence of God in the beauty of his creation, which we enjoyed on numerous hikes and adventures, including our little road trip up to Medora, ND, a couple of afternoon drives through the Badlands, and a day trip to Devil’s Tower. We explored some new trails, including Hell Canyon, the Ingersoll Mine, and the back way in to Big Falls. There was the sweet delight of finding my first pasque flowers. There was the fun of getting Trixie, a little litter of kittens, and then another puppy two weeks ago. God’s creatures are such a gift! There was the work and fun of canning and processing, particularly of the harvesting fruit and processing jellies in the late summer.There was the beginning of expanding my photography business, shooting a wedding in June, doing a number of family portrait sessions, buying my first professional lens, winning best of show at the Custer County Fair again, and seeing my work in a local gallery. I was blessed with six piano students from my church, and am looking forward to taking on another in the next week or so.
The joy of reading continued to be a blessing, as always, with a wonderful biography on Spurgeon, the British theologian and pastor from the 19th century, as well as using his devotionals Morning by Morning and Evening by Evening. I read and re-read a short western novel, Man from Yuma, and have come to the conclusion that it is one of the best westerns I have ever read. I highly recommend it. Recently, I also enjoyed the first volume of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. Small pleasures. But the joy of life is largely composed of small pleasures.Even as I write this little list and muse over the last year, I feel sheepish. God is so good! How dare I look back on any year and feel that it was “dry” or “uneventful!” It contained no more or less than God had sovereignly ordained. Once again, I look forward with eagerness and hope (and some trepidation) to this next year. It is going to be busy, with some exciting projects and prospects, and I trust that God will be growing me and changing me, to his glory. So I usher in the New Year, glad of God’s goodness, eager to see what unfolds in 2017.