Pretty is such an overused term. It has its place: “That’s a pretty dress,” for instance. But to call a person pretty is to focus entirely on outward appearance, and forgets all about the soul. Beautiful is a little more appropriate. But I prefer the term lovely. Lovely seems to me to get below the surface of a person’s appearance, and touches on their heart. A person can be “pretty” but have a wicked heart. But a lovely person has to have a heart that is full of light. Someone else may have a different opinion on the syntax and connotations, but that is what they mean to me.
Last week, we were all at the Gaslight Restaurant in Rockerville, and both Anna and I felt the need to get outside for a few minutes. We got outside just before sunset, and the light was almost perfect. The light was just getting a little iffy, which accounts for some of the graininess of the pictures, but other than that, it was great. And with wonderful rundown buildings for a backdrop, we had a photoshoot ready to go!
Anna is my youngest sister, and I sometimes am surprised when I realize that she isn’t a kid anymore, but a young lady! And she is a young lady with a heart of gold. We have our moments and our relational difficulties, but I can see how God has been working in her heart (and in mine, for that matter), and we are closer now than we were a year and a half ago when we moved out here. This is one of the reasons I’m so glad to be living at home, even at the age of 25! If I had left home prior to college, or right after college, I would have missed out on this opportunity that I have had, to work to improve our relationship and to try to mend some of those areas where I’ve messed up, and to become better friends with her. 
Seeing the way the little girls at church look up to Anna is truly heartwarming. They adore her, and she loves on them like crazy. She has a great work ethic, a sense of humor, and an artistic flare that for some reason she tries to keep hidden. But you should see her drawings. But more than all of that, she loves Jesus.
She’s a lovely person.
Pets are one of those little blessings that as children we instinctively know are a gift from God. We pray about them, thanking God for them, asking Him to keep our pets safe. But when we grow up, we lose something of that delight. “More important things” take up our thoughts, and we can lose sight of those little blessings and gifts from God that we experience every day. We thank God for what we might consider the “big gifts” (family, church, promotion at work, scholarships, financial security, the new car) but we neglect to thank Him for His little gifts, daily evidences of His goodness to us (the first breath we take each morning, the feel of a puppy’s fur, a cat’s purr, a baby’s smile, dewdrops on grass, fresh air, clean water). If God’s goodness is manifest in Creation, which it is, isn’t it also manifest in those little or individual things of His Creation, be it a flower or a rolling landscape or a waterfall or great creatures or small creatures?
The cows had found a hole in the fence, and the green grass and water in the dam were irresistible, I guess. They were pretty content, and I think we could have left them and they’d still be there tomorrow. Uncle Stuart was out fencing, and when he drove up in the beat-up ranch Toyota, he, Dad, and I moved them back into the pasture they’re supposed to be in.
Cows are beautiful creatures. They’re in a further pasture now, but I love when they are close enough to hear them lowing, and to smell their warm scent.
As I snapped pictures of the cows and the wildflowers, and tromped through the waist-high grass with my dad and my uncle, my frustration melted. Pity-parties really are a waste of time, and are so entirely uncalled-for.
Life is good. God is good. Cows and coneflowers reminded me of that.
In 1620, the Mayflower Compact was signed by 41 men, Separatists and Strangers, declaring their resolution to work together in the New World. The Strangers were adventurers and soldiers, but the Separatists were Protestant men and women and children who were seeking a greater degree of religious freedom, out from under the authority and tyranny of the state-run Anglican church. Their agreement read:
So what better way to spend Independence Day than with family and friends, enjoying the freedom to assemble with our brothers and sisters of the faith?
Stockade Lake was bustling activity yesterday afternoon, tourists and locals camping and boating and enjoying the beauty of the Black Hills. The beaches were overrun with festive crowds, but our friends had managed to snag a pavilion earlier in the day, so we had a corner of the lake to ourselves.
We enjoyed osprey and herons and ducks, and very few bothersome insects since it has been so dry. Trixie came with us, of course, and I think she met her match for energy in our friends’ youngest two. Calvin and Laurel couldn’t get enough of her, and I think she liked the attention. After all, they were just about her size!
The kids swam in the lake, and Sarah brought her kayaks, much to the delight of the boys, so after dinner they hauled the kayaks down to the lake and were pretty much gone for a couple of hours. We all visited and shared good food and fellowship, and were showered on by a little thunderburst that came our way briefly. The storm didn’t last long, and the cool evening wound down to dusk.
Those of us who didn’t mind getting home late headed over to our pastor’s house to watch the Custer fireworks from his family’s backyard. They have a great view of the show, and it seemed like about half our church converged on their home for the evening! Our church is pretty geographically separated, many of us traveling 45 minutes or more to get to church. So those opportunities we have midweek to see one another, to see our brothers and sisters, are cherished dearly. We were treated not only to the fireworks, but also to beautiful lightning from another storm that slowly closed in. We were close enough to still feel the resonating explosions, the far enough away to be able to keep up our conversations. It was fun to hear the burst of applause from the whole town of Custer after the last flares of the finale. Custer’s fireworks are simple in comparison with what other larger towns can afford, but they are no less enjoyed.
We watched the traffic streaming out of town, and then it slowed to a trickle. The noises of the crowd down in Custer quieted. The lightning was flickering and flashing, closer now. Then the rain started gently. It was a good day. We have so much to be thankful for.
Our flag is a symbol of those things that America stands for at her core. Although the colors didn’t have significance at the time of our first flag, the colors became significant when the Great Seal was designed in 1782. White stands for purity and innocence. Red stands for hardiness and valor. Blue stands for vigilance, perseverance, and justice.
What a delight it was, then, to spend the evening with my pastor’s family, fellowshipping over a meal and then heading over to Stockade Lake as the sun was setting. They had graciously agreed to let me practice family portraits on them, muddling through posing and lighting and everything else that comes with a photo shoot. And it was a joy!
This family is truly characterized by their love of their Savior, which manifests itself in their love for each other and their love for others. J.O. and Dana have a beautiful, Christ-centered marriage, and they love and honor one another so wholly. And their children are a testament to that, thriving and growing as children in their parents’ Gospel-driven home. 
After finishing up by Stockade Lake and enjoying the pleasure of God’s Creation, we went back to their place for hot chocolate and tea and more good conversation.
Song Dog Journal 