Wild Things

Wild turkey

Every night I think there is a party going on in my yard.

It’s like the wildlife in our area borrow the line, “Let the wild rumpus begin!” from the children’s book, Where the Wild Things Areby Maurice Sendak.

I know this because I have seen wild critters roaming in our yard, I have smelled them, and our cat morphs into her security sentinel mode as evening descends. 

If we allow her to remain outside after dusk, she mans her “post,” one side or another of our deck where she watches the lawn for trespassers.

When we force her to come inside (because she has tangled with skunks one too many times and she is no longer allowed outside after dark!), she sits for hours in our upstairs bedroom window.  Her cat eyes trained on the front landscape from her lofty perch, she scans it for any perpetrators.

Skunks frequent our yard regularly.   In the summer when we sometimes sleep with our windows wide open for fresh air, I have awakened often in the middle of the night to a horrible smell.  

Our friend, Mr. Skunk.  Why he chooses to spray his offensive odor near our house,  I do not know, except I wonder if he runs into all the other party animals romping through our lawn, possibly those rowdy raccoons.

Occasionally I suffer from bouts of insomnia. I’m one of those people who can’t drink or eat anything with caffeine after 7 p.m. or I can be sure I’ll spend a mostly sleepless night and I don’t live in Seattle!

One night after tossing and turning for a couple of hours, I meandered downstairs to the family room to read around 2 a.m.  I was startled to see the motion detector light flash on our back deck and something walk past the patio door.  When I looked out, a little fearful about what I might see, a possum stared back at me.

He had climbed up several steps, walked past my open (but screened) door, sauntered across the deck, and descended down the stairs on the other side. I really can’t imagine why he took this path, since there was nothing on my deck to entice him up there!

The daytime hours reveal just as many creatures using our acreage as a thoroughfare as those nocturnal critters.  We’ve seen groundhogs, rabbits, moles and mice, muskrats, snakes, and even a snapping turtle. 

My kids also once saw a bear in our area, but I’m happy to report that’s one animal I haven’t laid eyes on yet, thankfully (except for the zoo)! Twice now I’ve seen a little fox scurry through on his way and we also have had families of wild turkeys.

Did I ever tell you about the time a turkey flew smack dab into the side of our house during a snowstorm and landed kerplunk, dead as a doornail, on our deck? Yep, that happened. 

Imagine  getting up one morning,  hearing a loud whump against your house, and finding a dead turkey covered with snow lying on your deck.  And it wasn’t even Thanksgiving!  Life in the country!

And then there are the white-tailed deer. They are abundant in our neck of the woods and every fall they seem to go berserk.   It’s the rutting season and later in the fall, hunters will stake out their tree stands in the woods, waiting for their prey.  This makes the deer crazy – literally.

Middle daughter’s car

You never know when a sweet little Bambi is going to plow straight into your car while you are traveling 45-65 mph.  I imagine the damage done to vehicles in my home state just from deer collisions is staggering.

I speak from personal experience.   Just this morning at o’dark thirty as I was on my way to a local school, one of those wild things emerged from the thick woods and darted across the road directly in front of me.  It was dark and it was raining and I was on a country road.  I’ve had more close calls like that than I can remember.

I usually don’t worry too much about hitting the deer, I worry more about the deer hitting me because that’s what has occurred to our family twice since we’ve moved here.  The first time happened to me in my two-month old car. 

Notice deer fur

A doe literally appeared out of nowhere and slammed into the left front bumper of my car.  She fell down, scrambled dizzily to her feet, and I was certain she was going to run into me again. That one caused  $2000 in damage to my new car.

Last year, shortly after middle daughter bought herself a brand new car, she was tooling down the highway minding her own business when BAM! Bambi rammed into the driver’s back side of her car, putting a huge dent in her lovely new vehicle, and sending broken glass and deer fur raining all over daughter’s passengers and the inside of her car. She was just very fortunate that no one was injured.

I know there are a lot of animal lovers out there who think it is cruel to hunt and kill these wild creatures, but I’m not one of them. 

Hunting season will be here soon and here’s what I say – “Let the wild rumpus begin!”

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

That’s sweet!!

Image via freedigitalphotos

Sweets for the sweet.  I’m not going to claim that I am the epitome of sweetness.

Just ask my husband, I’m sure he can relate more than one occasion when he would not describe me as sweet.

My tongue can be pretty tart on occasion and I know I’m even a little sour now and then.

I’ve worked very hard on removing bitterness out of my life, but every so often I probably am a little salty.  I do make a concerted effort though to live by Proverbs 16:24 ~ “Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

Out of all the “tastes” the taste buds on our tongues can distinguish, my tongue likes sweet the best.  I’ll admit it, I have a sweet tooth!  I think I inherited this fondness for sugar from my dad, who loved sweets.

I’m pretty sure they were such a delight for him because he was the last child in a family of six children growing up during the Great Depression without a father.  My grandpa died when Dad was a mere baby, so my grandma had a tough life trying to provide for her family especially in those difficult economic times.

So desserts or anything sweet were rare and a very special treat for my dad as a child.  I think that’s why he enjoyed those little luxuries so very much as an adult.  Dad always had some kind of candy on hand in his house and when he shopped for groceries, you could bet there were cookies and cakes in his cart!

My mom spoiled him (and me) in that respect when she was still living, because she was the most amazing baker.  Her desserts were delicious – cookies, cakes, pies.   To this day, my husband has never, ever found a piece of coconut cream pie that tasted as good as my mom’s did.  Every time, he samples a slice of that kind of pie, he shakes his head and pronounces, “Nope, not as good as your mom’s!”  When I was young, she even made homemade candy and doughnuts.  Yum, yum.

So is it any wonder I love sweets too?  The past week though I have had way more than my fair share of sugary indulgences!  Friday afternoon I attended my friend’s daughter’s wedding.  There were wonderful hors d’oeuvres and a delicious meal served, but what really floated my boat was the gigantic table filled with platters and trays of cookies, cookies, cookies.  And of course there was wedding cake served too! Mine was chocolate with peanut butter filling.  Delish!

When Monday rolled around, I attended a “dessert meeting” at my work place.  Nestled on a lovely, fall-theme decorated table were plates of cookies and brownies and a bowl of miniature chocolate candy bars.

Of course, since then, the remaining goodies have been available for snacking in my office.  And since my friend works there too, she brought in another tray of cookies from the wedding celebration.  And that bowl of candy hasn’t been touched much, so it still calls to me from the counter every time I go to the copy machine.

My work takes me into school classrooms and this week I have been in the Family Living and Consumer Science department (that’s Home Ec for us old-timers) at a local high school.  I’m there presenting a program to one class a day during the first period, bright and early in the morning.  So I grab a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of hot tea every morning before I head out the door.

When I arrive back at my office, those cookies are sitting there asking to be eaten.  I’ve done my best to resist and have only eaten a couple.  Of course, still recovering from the flu, I haven’t been that hungry either.  Until today.

During my class this morning, the teacher baked sample homemade cinnamon rolls, which her second period class was going to start preparing today.  The smell of those rolls baking was heaven.   As I gathered up my material to leave, she asked me if I would care to have a cinnamon roll for the road.  Would I???   Does a lion turn down meat? Would a panda bear say, “No, thank you” to a bamboo shoot?  Does a killer shark resist fresh fishies?  Would Mama politely refuse a freshly-baked, iced cinnamon roll?  No way!

You know that starve a cold, feed a fever thing?  Or is it starve a fever, feed a cold?  I can never remember.  Apparently, my body is tired of that and what does it crave?  Cinnamon rolls would fit the bill quite nicely.

Mercy, it was good.  I ate the whole thing.  Then I ate some cookies.  I just might be on a sugar-overload high.  I know one thing, I’m feeling pretty “ssaweeeettt”  today.

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Where’s Spiderman when you need him?

This is not the spider I saw, thank goodness!

We are a family not very fond of arachnids.   I still get the willies every time I think about the time,  when we lived in the Southwest, hubby and I were out driving and saw lines of tarantulas crawling in front of us – yes, on the road!

The only spider we ever got a kick out of was Spiderman in the movies. I think my kids have all of the DVDs and have watched them a zillion times.  Which makes me wonder, could Spiderman throw out some of those heavy-duty webs and catch the spiders that are infiltrating my house right now?

The thought of seeing these black hairy creatures would send my oldest daughter into orbit.  She is terrified of insects and I do mean terrified!  When she still lived here in the nest, she would scream for her dad or brother to come kill a bug in her bedroom, even if it was just the common old housefly.  I’m not sure how she manages the insects that may find their way into her apartment now, but I suspect she has a very brave roommate (she is a doctor).

The rest of us don’t hyperventilate at an insect sighting like oldest daughter does, after all, we do live out here in the country, so there is an assortment of bugs flying and crawling around.  But it does creep me out when I spot fuzzy spiders darting across my family room floor!  That’s not the kind of fuzzy that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy all over, ya know?

But that’s what happened last night.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something about the size of a quarter scurry across the floor.  In my flu-induced weakness state, I couldn’t get up fast enough to see where it went and smoosh it.  Instead I called out to hubby, “There’s a spider!”  Okay… I yelled.

He chastised me a little because by the time he came from the kitchen, we had no clue where it had gone to hide away.  Then hubby told me he has already killed four of these boogers!  Ewwww. 

Here at our house we definitely do not agree with an old American Quaker saying, “If you want to live and thrive, let the spider run alive.”  No – spiders in our house, prepare to die!

As the weather has gotten cooler and the rain has set in, these creepy crawlers have found ways to enter our house and garage.  Spiders seem to be everywhere.  They’ve even taken up residence in our mail box and you never know when you pick up the mail if you have a hitchhiker.   I’m sure anyone driving by my house when I’m standing in my driveway shaking the heck out of my mail thinks I’m nuts.  Maybe they think I’m shaking down my mail for money! Ha — finding money in the mail…that would be the day!

Today on my way home from work, I stopped to fill my car up with gas.  While I was pumping, this huge monster brown spider ran towards my car, but luckily changed its little spidey-brain and ran back from whence it came.  Thankfully!

I suspect the spiders at my house are entering around our French doors in the family room, but I don’t care where they come from, I just want them gone! And I really want the one I spotted last night to be gone.  Last time I saw him, he was headed for the computer desk.

As you may recall, I romp around my house in my bare feet.  Guess who is sitting at the computer typing her blog post and holding her feet up from the floor?  Yeah, that would be me.  Spiderman, please come save me!

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

View from my window

“All the windows of my heart I open to the day.” ~ John Greenleaf Whittier

Each morning as we awaken, I wonder how many of us look out the window.  I do.  It’s one of the first things I accomplish.

I check to see if it’s sunny, or pouring down rain, is there frost on the ground or maybe snow?  In many ways, the view outside my window sets my mood for the day. Sunshine usually makes me happy, but I can even get excited about snowflakes in the air.

Looking out my window today here are the things I observe.  The sky is brilliant blue with tufts of white puffy clouds, and the sun is radiantly beaming down on our two and a half-acre yard causing shadows here and there.

A refreshing wind blew in overnight and pushed out the heat and humidity from yesterday (it was 89 degrees).   The maple trees, which are just starting to show a hint of changing colors, are gently swaying back and forth in the gusts of wind that come along.  The leaves wave at me as if to say, “Notice us because before too long, we will be gone!”

My empty porch swing also sways back and forth in the gentle breeze.  Soon it will be time to store all the outdoor furniture away for the winter.  Our potted flowers, which once beautified the front porch and deck with spots of dazzling color, are now withered and dried, another sign of the summer season’s wane.

Occasionally, a car or pick-up truck passes by our house on the road in front of our home.   There’s never much traffic out our way because most people travel the four-lane highway to get where they’re going.

Hubby is out back burning some trash.  We live in the country where one can burn paper and cardboard, thus making our garbage load in the landfills a little lighter.  Hubby stops to take a cell phone call; it’s a long one.

He hunkers down by the compost pile and continues to talk, shielding the phone from the wind no doubt.  Suddenly, he stands up and waves his arms.  Uh-oh, I can tell he’s a little agitated by the call—must be work related.

Coming in for a cool drink of home-made iced tea, hubby tells me about his phone call.  One of the things I admire about my husband is his ability to get over anger quickly.  He’s already calmed down and goes back outside to jump on the John Deere lawn tractor and mow the lawn, a task he always seems to enjoy.

Our garden, which just a few weeks ago, was vibrantly growing and out of control, is now half bare; only the pepper plants, a few cherry tomatoes, and the Brussels sprouts remain.  The cheery sunflowers are bowing their heads lower and lower each day.

Large black crows, with their cacophonous caws, visit our yard enticed by the promise of sunflower seeds.  Their presence sends our kitty cat into a tizzy.   How dare those brazen birds enter her yard?!

Once the crows withdraw, it’s quiet except for the drone of the lawn tractor.   Many people might think it’s mundane living out here in the country without any hustle and bustle.  To us, it’s just an everyday occurrence and that’s the way we like it.  We wouldn’t want it any other way.

I lift up a thankfulness prayer to the One who gave us this blessed, peaceful life and the promise of tomorrow, when I once again will check the view from my window.

“Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.” ~ Colossians 4:2

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Still haven’t found what you’re looking for?

Wandering up and down the aisles.   Turning left, then turning right.   Searching, seeking, hunting.

While rambling through a local discount store one day in pursuit of a particular item, I found it rather amusing that U2’s song, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” accompanied my quest as it was played on the store’s public address system.

I continued exploring the store singing “I have run, I have crawled, I have scaled these city walls, these city walls, only to be with you.  But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.  But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

And I didn’t find what I was looking for. I departed the store without the item, but with that song firmly anchored in my head.  The lyrics reminded me how often we humans search, explore, and literally travel on a quest to find some spiritual meaning to life, yet the answer is right in front of us.

One day a few summers ago, our garage door stood open for most of the day.   Son was trimming the yard and whacking down the weeds with the weed-eater, so he was in and out of the garage.   I was outside pulling weeds from the flower beds.

When we finished and were closing the door, we realized a tiny bird had flown into the garage and couldn’t find his way out.  That little thing was in an absolute frenzy.   He flew frantically from one corner of the garage to the other. He lit on the extension ladder, which hung on the wall, to rest for a second, and then off he flew again.  He even perched periodically on the open garage door itself, but could not seem to figure his way out of his predicament.

Son, middle daughter, and I attempted to aid his escape, but he became even more panicked.  Our cat never took her eye off him, obviously expecting a tasty bird dinner sometime soon.   After shooing the cat away, I thought surely the bird would come to his senses and fly out.

But he persistently flew into the ceiling of the garage over and over again, as if he could make an opening to escape by banging his head into the wall.  Soon he was bleeding.  We all felt such pity for this little creature and expected him to die either from exhaustion or smacking his head on the ceiling one too many times.

Finally, he discovered his way out and escaped.   The thing was the double car garage door was open the entire time.   The way was clear and wide open, yet that little bird couldn’t seem to see it.

Aren’t we just like that bird?

We get so caught up in our situations, distressed and distraught, and we bang our heads in frustration until we’re bloodied.

We panic and in our fluster, run around like a chicken with its head cut off, pardon the connection.

And the entire time, the answer, the help we need, or the solution is right there.   In front of us.  The door is open.  Every time we lose our way, God is there to help us out.

We don’t have to search.  We don’t have to wander aimlessly. He’s there, waiting.  He flings the door wide open for us to come to Him.  All we have to do is walk through it.   He is what we’re looking for.

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Feeling topsy-turvy

My mind’s kind of foggy, I feel pretty groggy.

This out of balance, off-kilter thing continues.

I feel awfully saggy, my eyes looking baggy,

I’d rather be writing than searching for tissues.

The flu’s got a hold on me, it’s been rather bold you see.

My mind says “be gone,” but my body’s not free.

So I sit here and rhyme because I have time,

But the world seems topsy-turvy to me.

So yesterday was the first day of fall.  And today it is 86 degrees outside at my house, which seems like summer.   And I am still feeling the ill effects of a cold/flu, which I associate with winter.  Is it me or is the world a little upside down right now?

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Dancing in September

Image via freedigitalphotos.net

“Do you remember the 21st night of September?”

For those of you too young to remember, that’s an old disco song performed by a group called Earth, Wind and Fire.

For some reason, songs really stick in my brain and I can recall lines from songs better than remembering what day is trash pick-up day.

Speaking of trash, some of the songs being played on the airwaves today should be relegated to the trash bin if you ask me.  I often wonder what will happen when the younger set becomes the older generation.  Will they look fondly back to their “golden oldies?”   Will they wistfully listen once again to today’s songs and reminiscence about days gone by?  You know, songs from Lady Gaga and Eminem.

Many of today’s hit songs would make a well-seasoned pirate blush, that’s what I think. Songs from yester-year are mild and tame in comparison, but even better yet, they are tasteful.  Even in the rebellious years of the 60’s and 70’s into the me-decade of the 80’s, most songs did not have foul language in their lyrics, let alone sexual language too crude to even think about.

Call me old-fashioned, but give me the real oldies – songs from the late 50’s and 60’s.   My sisters were in their teens in those years and  songs from that era are filed away in my memory bank because I heard those songs a lot back then.  My oldest sister would have “pajama parties;”  we call them sleepovers today, except back then no one would ever think of inviting boys to a sleepover!

Sis would set up her pink and grey record player, with a big stack of 45’s waiting near by to be played during the party.  Yeah kids, record player.  Songs were recorded on vinyl discs called records – small ones were 45’s and they had one song recorded on them.  They were played on a contraption which had an arm with a stylus (needle) inserted into it.  As the record revolved, the stylus picked up vibrations off the grooves in the records, which magically emitted music from the record player speakers.

So Sis would invite all her teenaged girlfriends and they would dance to the records, eat snacks,  and just have fun all night, I assume.  I was never allowed to stay up for those parties because I was just a youngster of four or five.  The pajama parties were usually held in our basement, and I would sneak down the stairs part-way, sit on a step, and watch with envy as the girls danced, laughed, and squealed at their fun.  My sister would shoo me back up the steps, but sometimes one of her friends would take a shine to me and let me come down to dance awhile.  I not only remember the parties but the songs on the records they played.

Songs like “Cathy’s Clown” and “Wake Up Little Susie” by the Everly Brothers, “Soldier Boy” by The Shirelles, “Papa Loves Mambo” by Perry Como, “Love Letters in the Sand” by Pat Boone, “The Monster Mash,” “Leader of the Pack,” and the list goes on and on.  Simple music from a simpler time.

My adolescent years took place in the 60’s and early 70s’s.  The music from that time is also ensconced in my memory.  The first record I ever purchased was “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter” by Herman’s Hermits.  I listened to typical teenage fare back then and graduated to songs by Elton John, The Doobie Brothers, and Chicago in my college years.

And then the disco era hit. By then hubby and I were married and starting to settle down.   The songs from the late 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s are scattered in my memory.  I was too busy producing and raising children to listen much to popular music, but I do “remember the 21st  night of September…Say do you remember, ba dee ya, dancing in September, ba dee ya, never was a cloudy day.”

If I wasn’t still sick with this nasty flu bug, I’d get up and dance.  No energy though.  Fits of coughing would ensue.  So I’ll just watch this little guy boogie on down.  Come on, get up and boogie with him, you know you want to!

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Off Balance Blues

Image via freedigitalphotos.net

Do you ever feel like you’re a little off-balance, out of kilter?

It’s not really something you can readily identify like your blood sugar’s low or you’re wearing two different shoes so your balance literally is off.

Don’t laugh, I know people who have done that!  One lady must have scurried out of her house in a huge hurry one Sunday morning because she arrived at church with one white shoe on one foot and one black shoe on the other.  I also personally know someone who wore two different shoes to a wedding – not on purpose.   So it happens, but that’s not what I mean.

I’m talking about when you experience a period of time in which things don’t fall into line according to plan, you just can’t seem to focus, or one thing after another goes awry. I’m undergoing one of those phases.

The first incidence was when I opened the vanity cupboard door on my side of the bathroom sink to find sopping wet items in there.  As I pulled them out, water started dripping from the cabinet onto the carpet.   And of course this occurred at 11 p.m. on a weeknight just as hubby and I were preparing to turn in for the night! 

After we emptied the cabinet and soaked up the water with towels, hubby declared my sink off-limits until he could inspect it and see where the leak was.  That’s when I noticed water running out of his side of the vanity too!

The next day when middle daughter came home for an overnight visit, I made a good home-cooked meal.  While I was removing the baking dish from the oven, I burned myself badly on the inside of my left wrist.  A long, straight burn line from the oven rack turned into a blister which I kept bumping every time I used my arm.

I covered it with some burn cream and a huge band-aid (one of the ones that didn’t get wet under the sink) because my nurse daughter told me to keep the blister intact for less chance of infection.  I awakened the next morning with my arm itching madly in the vicinity of my burn, and when I removed the band-aid found my skin broken out in hives from the bandage adhesive.

Later, while daughter and I were shopping at a nearby mall, I  complained about my shoes.  As we hiked the mall, one of my feet kept slipping in my shoe.  That evening, my back bothered me and then my right knee started to ache, probably because I was trying to compensate for the slippery shoe and was totally throwing my body out of whack.

Yeah, that’s the kind of week it was.  And it only went downhill from there.   The next day brought a head-ache and then somehow I actually stabbed a tender area of my skin – it bled and smarted like crazy – with a fingernail.  Who does that???  Apparently, accident-prone me.

Yesterday I just didn’t feel “right” all day long – tired, out-of-sorts, lethargic. And then my huge burn blister popped open. Last night as I tripped over the bathroom items that are still taking up residence on the floor instead of the vanity (because we need to make sure the leak is fixed once and for all), I remarked to hubby that my throat felt really sore.

I spent a rather sleepless night as my throat felt so raw I could not rest.  Finally, around 3 a.m. I crept downstairs so as not to wake hubby and searched for some Tylenol.  You guessed it, we had none.  Scrounging around in my purse in the bedroom by cell phone light (that did wake hubby up!),  I finally found some, which didn’t help my throat much at all.

So I’m home sick today  - headache, sore throat, achy, the works.  I hate being sick and if I wasn’t already off-balance, this is going to throw me off kilter even more. There are tons of items on my work to-do list, including a presentation that may or may not happen (dependent on how I feel) tomorrow.   Of course, I also forgot to mention that my power went off for a short time right after I sat down at the computer to write this post.

That’s it.  I’m done.  I’m climbing back into bed.

Ahhhh-choooo!   I really have to go now.   I need to catch my nose……it’s running.  I just hope I don’t trip over the cat on my way to the Kleenex box.

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Metamorphosis

Butterflies of several varieties dance in a sort of ballet, pirouetting through the air, gliding in a glissade, sometimes performing adagio, sometimes allegro, but always returning to the barre, which is the butterfly bush in our flower garden.

The profusion of purple blooms lures them back to the bush over and over.

This past summer beholding them swoop and swoon gracefully here and there was enchanting, and it’s almost unbelievable that these fluttering creatures used to be lowly caterpillars.  Comic George Carlin allegedly once said, “The caterpillar does all the work but the butterfly gets all the publicity.”

The butterfly definitely has the glitz! It’s easy to forget the bedazzling butterfly was once the common-looking caterpillar, don’t you think?  “There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly,”  engineer/designer/inventor Richard Buckminster Fuller said.  I find that to be true in us human beings as well.

A number of years ago, I attended women’s retreats with ladies from my church family then.   The retreat center was beautiful, nestled among nature with serenity in the scenery.  Situated in the Oregon countryside, the center was surrounded by tall, stately Douglas fir trees, hazelnut orchards, and vineyards on the hillsides.

Walking trails wound their way around the center, and there were ample places of solitude to visit for prayer or reflection.  A small lake for boating and even a zip line for those adventurous types among us were other attractions.

I remember my time there fondly, but one aspect of our weekend there I will never forget.   After a busy day of Bible study, praise and worship, prayer, wonderful home-cooked meals with vegetables and herbs from the center’s garden, and fun activities, we gathered together, settled down for the evening, and watched a video.  I can’t recall the title, but it was an inspirational viewing of gorgeous photography set to uplifting Christian music with a velvet-voiced narration of Scripture befitting each scene.

One scene was a time-lapsed segment of a magnificent creature – the butterfly – emerging from its cocoon.  As I watched the butterfly struggle and push its way free of the chrysalis, the accompanying Scripture was impressed on my heart and in my mind.   “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.” ~ 2 Corinthians 5:17

My visual learning style grasped this idea immediately, and that picture and scripture have never left my mind.  Next to the verse in my Bible is this notation, written from that day back in the 90’s – “just like a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon.”   To this day, when I notice a butterfly coasting in the air, I think of this verse.

How very much we resemble the butterfly.  As this magnificent creature goes through stages of life to become an adult, we do likewise.   For the butterfly, there are four stages: egg, larva, pupa, and adult.  We experience physical stages of life from our start as a fertilized egg in our mother’s womb to babyhood to childhood to adulthood.

But I see a resemblance to the butterfly spiritually as well.    We humans can be quite lowly as we crawl along in the mud and mire, serving ourselves like the caterpillar.  In the caterpillar stage, this insect eats and eats and eats.  That’s all it does.  It eats to serve itself, devouring the leaf where the larva was laid as an egg.   It eats so that it can grow quickly, and when it has reached its full size, it forms into a pupa or chrysalis (cocoon).

It looks like the caterpillar is just resting inside the chrysalis, but a miraculous transformation is actually taking place – a complete metamorphosis.  The caterpillar’s tissues, limbs and even organs all eventually change and an adult butterfly begins to emerge from its encasement.

Just like some people think the caterpillar is ugly or unattractive, when we live our life without Christ, our lives can be very ugly, especially when we are self-serving.   But once we come to know Jesus personally, accept Him as our Savior and Lord, a miraculous metamorphosis takes place within us.  If we eat and are fed nourishing spiritual food – Biblical wisdom and truth — we will grow in our faith.

The old (ugly, mean-spirited, sinful self) will be transformed into the new (Christ-like) version.  But it doesn’t stop there.   Our change into Christ-likeness should continue as we mature in spiritual wisdom by reading and hearing God’s Word, seeking righteousness, and serving others.

The Apostle Paul in his letter to the Ephesians (Chapter 4:23-24) tells us, “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

When we become believers in Christ, we should not remain stagnant, but should develop and be strengthened (spread our wings and fly) in our walk of faith.  We become new creations — the old is gone and the new has come!

“Do ye not comprehend that we are worms,

Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly

That flieth unto judgment without screen?”

~written by Dante Alighieri in The Divine Comedy

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

An 80-year-old Gift

Image via freedigitalphotos.net

Imagine you’re in the winter season of your years.  You’ve witnessed much in your 80-plus years on this earth.  Seasons have come, seasons have passed.

I would imagine by the time you’ve reached your 80’s, 90’s, and beyond, you’ve probably experienced the loss of many of your loved ones – peers and family, except hopefully your children and grandchildren.

I know my own father, who passed away at 90 and was the youngest of his family, often talked about how difficult it was to be left behind.  Even though he received much joy from my sisters,  all his grandchildren,  and great-grandchildren, he missed those who had gone on before him – my mother, his siblings, parents, in-laws, and most of his friends.

I would suppose that the winter of your life could be a lonely, depressing time.  I’ve often heard friends discuss that it distresses them to hear their parents remark that they are just waiting to die.

For those who are saved by grace, it’s something they eagerly anticipate – their journey to heaven.   For those who are gravely ill, incapacitated, or just extremely weary after 80-90 years of life, they must be seeking relief and peace.

So imagine one day, you are just living your life much like any other day and someone hands you a gift.   A treasure for your eyes and your heart.  A poem you have never seen before,  written for you on the occasion of your first birthday all those years ago.   A piece of paper in your dear mother’s handwriting, the mother who died when you were 12 years old.  A gift of love  that you finally received today, 80 years later.

That’s what this elderly gentleman from Kansas City received. Watch this video and see if it doesn’t bless your heart the way it did mine.   (Note: For some reason, YouTube will not allow me to embed the video in my blog.  Just click on the arrow and then click again on “watch on YouTube” and it will take you to the video on YouTube.com)

©2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com