Wings of Courage
I woke up to birds chirping outside my window this morning, nature's not-so-subtle hint that the feeders were empty again. After bundling up against the Welsh morning chill, I headed out to the driveway with my humongous cup of birdseed.
I scattered handfuls across what I jokingly call the "neighborhood bird café," which is just a little spot under our hedgerow. Job done, I scurried back inside to watch the show from my office window. What happened next made me laugh out loud.
The local feathered residents had definitely spotted my offering. They lined up along the top of the hedge like they were waiting for a bus! Finches, sparrows, and a couple of cheeky robins all stared down at the seed buffet, heads tilted, not a single one making a move.
Seriously, not one bird budged.
Holding Onto Hope During Life’s Drizzles
Oh, the weather in Wales can be as unpredictable as my fibromyalgia! For the month of October, we are dog-sitting for some friends, which means there are two dogs underfoot, two dogs to feed, two dogs to walk, and two doggie schedules to work around. Well, today, Jason is working at the Community Luncheon Club, which leaves me on dog duty for the day. I had resigned to the fact that I was not likely going to get much accomplished, but I was leery about how and when to do our daily walk. That brings me to the Welsh weather.
The entire morning has been drizzly, so I knew it would likely be a wet walk. Still, I was hopeful.
The Sunflower’s Dance
Did you know sunflowers can dance?
While they may appear to be standing perfectly still, sunflowers actually make subtle, almost imperceptible movements called circumnutation. And even more remarkable, they grow in patterns that carefully avoid overshadowing their neighbors.
These aren't just plants selfishly stretching toward the light. They're dancing a choreographed routine that allows the entire field to flourish. Each sunflower adjusts its growth direction to prevent casting shadows on nearby plants. The result? Maximum sunlight absorption for the entire community.
This botanical ballet offers a beautiful picture of how the body of Christ is meant to operate.
In Romans 12:10, we're instructed, "Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another." These sunflowers live out this scripture in their own remarkable way, preferring their neighbors by ensuring they receive adequate light.
How often do we, as Christians, position ourselves to cast shadows over our brothers and sisters?
A Funeral Wake-Up Call
Last week, I attended my first funeral in Wales, and despite being warned of what to expect, I walked out of the chapel feeling utterly devastated. The experience left me with a heaviness I hadn't anticipated.
I understand that funerals are occasions of sadness and mourning, and for that reason, I typically avoid them as much as possible. But this one affected me differently than I expected. What saddened me most? Was it the crowd of people waiting outside the chapel, not because there wasn't room but rather because they refused to step foot inside the actual building? Or was it the minister who presented the message that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God; therefore, we can rejoice that we will all be reunited in Heaven?
No wonder it's so difficult to reach these people with the gospel!
Marble Troubles, Sandy Blessings
Have you ever noticed how we tend to remember the negative far more vividly than the positive? I certainly have. Last week, while chatting with a friend about our past year, I found myself dwelling on the challenges like health flare-ups, ministry disappointments, and frustrating conversations. My list of troubles flowed effortlessly, while I struggled to recall specific blessings.
It struck me later that I’d been etching my trials in marble while letting my blessings wash away like footprints in the sand.
This peculiar human tendency reminds me of Joseph in the Bible. Talk about someone who could have clung to bitterness! Sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife, and forgotten in prison by the cupbearer, Joseph had a mental museum of grievances he could have displayed.
Instead, when naming his sons, Joseph made a remarkable choice.