Anniversaries of the heart. . .

On this, our 45th wedding anniversary - Bob's and mine, I am thinking of the words to a hymn, referring to marriage:

"Wherever you go I shall go.

Wherever you live so shall I live.

Your people will be my people,

and your God will be my God too.

Wherever you die I shall die

and there shall I be buried beside you.

We will be together forever,

and our love will be the gift of our life."

~~~

Anniversaries mark all sorts of life's events but those I hold most dear are the secret anniversaries of the heart.

Tis a gift to be simple. . .

There is nothing quite so refreshing to the soul as time spent alone in quiet observation of the simple things in life. Children have this capacity quite naturally but I think all too often the practice gets lost as the years go by. As adults, we sometimes tend to lose control of how our time is spent and only when we begin to reach the end of our time here do we realize how misplaced our priorities have been. These words come to mind: "Life is what's happening while we're busy doing other things." I think it is a real blessing if we have learned this, early on.

Every late afternoon - early evening, it was Bob's and my custom to make the rounds, as we called it. We visited every single growing thing on our property, commenting on the growth process (or lack thereof), shared our feelings of awe for the beauty of nature that surrounded us and talked about life, in general. I don't think I can recall our ever making those rounds without one or both of us being moved to near tears due to the significance and splendor of it all. We would often wonder, aloud, how it could be possible for anyone to believe these marvelous intricacies evolved by any other means than through God's handiwork.

I think those walks were instrumental in laying the groundwork for the faith that sustained both of us during Bob's illness and the faith that sustains me now. By God's grace, I still make the rounds but the conversations are in the silence of my heart.

Amen.

Clementi strikes again. . .

Clementi, the cat, mighty hunter, strikes again! Fall is officially here. I don't care what the calendar says. I know this, not only because the chipmunks are scurrying about with their little cheek pouches crammed full but also because there has been evidence of home invasion by deer mice. You know the signs - "chocolate sprinkles" here and there. This morning a mouse corpse had been strategically placed where I would be sure to notice. It's still there, in fact. That's because I have taken the liberty to declare DRD (Dead Rodent Detail) to be an inappropriate task to begin any day with. One has a right to have breakfast first. Coffee, at least. However, I always do take the time to feed Clementi's ego by praising a good job done. He'll be preening himself all day now.