Reflecting on Air….

Out of Air by Steve UlleniusIt’s another cold, grey morning here in Virginia. Even the old adage ‘March comes in like a lion, out like a lamb’ doesn’t seem to apply. With a week to go, the lamb is nowhere in sight. The air outside is cold and raw, and the wind is stirring up all sorts of dust and pollen. So I was drawn to this photo by my friend Steve, of a disused gas station. I’m not sure if some of the windows are boarded up, or covered with a soapy film. The air pump is long gone and even the exhaust ports are tightly sealed. The only way for air to escape is through the tiny hole beneath the word ‘AIR’. I have lived with asthma for most of my life, and it’s been an ongoing concern for my daughter. Asthma prevents the sufferer from breathing out. Air becomes trapped inside and it feels as if your lungs could burst. An inhaler opens the throat so you can breathe out once again. Asthma is something I would not wish on my worst enemy, let alone someone I love. We all want the best for our children, hoping they inherit our strengths but not our weaknesses. Yet all too often we end up with both, seemingly amplified beyond what we can bear. Perhaps we empathize because we know all too well what they are going through. We recall our own triumphs and failures, joys and sorrows. We wish to spare our children what we endured, but know we cannot. Growth requires vulnerability and exposure. We cannot learn without stretching ourselves, without moving out of our comfort zone. We cannot take without giving, gain new life without dying, start again without ending. When we turtle in, our world becomes filled with stale air. Make time today to take a chance, to lean into the wind, to breathe in deeply and breathe out freely. Open your heart and mind to another’s viewpoint, listening without reservation, seeking to understand, reserving judgment. Let go of what you expected and give thanks for what you have received. Forgive yourself and others for the shortcomings of this life, and allow The Almighty to complete what overwhelms you alone. And always remember to give thanks here and now, no matter what life may bring, for this gift of life is given to us one breath at a time. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo entitled ‘Out of Air’ by Steve Ullenius, All Rights Reserved

Reflecting on Water….

Yellow Floating Heart by Stanislav ShinkarenkoMarch has arrived like a lion, with each day choosing a different season. In the past few days, we have gone from a foot of snow to torrential downpour. Even the dog wanted to stay inside this morning rather than getting drenched. So I was drawn to this amazing photo by my far flung friend Stanislav. I love how this single yellow flower remains upright despite the surrounding flood. I can imagine the flower bobbing up and down, emerging after being submerged, patiently waiting for the rushing waters recede. It seems as though such a delicate bloom should be washed away, rather than stretching toward the sunlight after the storm. Like us, the flower would surely prefer a gentle shower, yet life seldom offers such an option. Drought is followed by deluge, followed by drought. So we seek ways to mitigate the extremes, to be sure we have the water we need when we need it. We become stewards of one of life’s most precious resources. It seems to me that prayer is a lot like water. We can wait to pray when life turns sour, only offering our heartfelt petitions when all else fails. Or prayer can be part and parcel of our daily existence, the first place we turn, as close as the breath we breathe and the water we drink. Our God does not impose upon us, or compel us to obey. It’s up to us. We can turn to the Lord as the last resort, or as the first. I don’t know about you, but I struggle with the discipline of daily prayer. It’s easy to put off, easier yet to cut short. Perhaps I make it too complicated, thinking I need a prayer book or certain amount of time to get it right. Yet all we need to pray is our breath. We can pray ‘let go’ as we breathe out, and ‘let God’ as we breathe in. Make time today to pray simply for yourself and others. Choose your own refrain for praying with your breath – perhaps breathing out ‘sorrow’ and in ‘joy’. Open your heart to the steadfast love of the Almighty, trusting God to salvage what humans consider beyond lost. Begin to water your faith with a gentle shower of earnest prayer, even if it’s only an upturned eye, or a heartfelt sigh. And always remember, all it takes is a few seconds of our time for our all merciful God to drench us with grace. Text and by Connie Chintall ©2013, Photo entitled ‘Yellow Floating Heart’ by Stanislav Shinkarenko ©2013, All Rights Reserved, to see more of his work, go to
https://plus.google.com/u/0/113920886778498557572/posts

Reflecting on Vision….

Eye of the Trees by Steve Ullenius, All Rights ReservedIt’s been a tense morning, home with a sick child. I’m waiting to hear back from the doctor, concerned as always that my daughter’s asthma complicates what would be a simple stomach bug for others. So I was drawn to this amazing photo by my friend Steve. This image of winter trees was taken using a fish eye lens. I can imagine Steve lying on the cold ground until he got the optimal perspective. But what really drew my interest was his comment about this photo. Steve said the trees look like the retina, so I began to ponder what we mean by the word vision. Our ability to perceive our surroundings is a complicated and nuanced gift. Those of us blessed with good vision often take it for granted, and can fail to understand the struggles of those with poor eyesight. I recall one of the first arguments my husband and I had after we married. He had moved my eyeglasses, and I was unable to locate them. I needed to wear my glasses to find my glasses. Yet what I found the most frustrating about the situation was how little he appreciated my plight. So I asked him to wear my glasses. He was astounded by how blurry the world seemed. I replied that what he saw was my world without my glasses. He needed to see the world through my eyes to understand my perspective. Like Steve’s photo, that took a bit of discomfort, but the view was well worth it. Make time today to give thanks for your ability to soak in the beauty of your surroundings. Recall the smile of a small child, or the bulbs pushing up through the soil. Consider the world through the lens of another, someone with more expertise or experience, someone who lacks what you take for granted, someone who yearns for more but is uncertain where to start. And always remember, when the wintery trees begin to block the view, all you need to do is look up. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo entitled ‘Fisheye Winter Trees’ by Steve Ullenius, All Rights Reserved

Reflecting on Resilience….

Spiral Migration by Jeanne MischoWe had a warm spell recently that even fooled my garden. Bulbs began to burst forth, flowering shrubs began to bud, and then the weather turned bitterly cold. Today the skies are a brilliant blue, with just a few wispy clouds. Looking out the window from my desk, it’s hard to conceive how cold it is. I’m captivated by the strong sunlight, rather than dwelling on the obvious signs of winter. So I was drawn to this beautiful art by my friend Jeanne, of birds migrating in a spiral. I love how Jeanne combines math and science with images of nature. A tree grows out of the center of the spiral, a tree that reminds me of the Shaker tree of life. The birds swirl around the tree, moving ever upward, ever closer to the Architect of All Creation. Life is messy by definition, and seldom what we expect or plan for. The happily ever after of fairy tales doesn’t describe most of the paths we follow. Perhaps we are too married to the idea of a straight line path, the idea that we can always see the way ahead. We call the unexpected in life sharp corners, or say we have been blindsided, or simply feel lost and alone. Some of us even allow the vagaries of this life to bury us under a succession of small sadnesses, accumulating into an existence of gloom and despair. Others are like the birds in this image, or the scene out my window. All is well, even when it’s freezing cold. What fuels this ability to persevere? What allows some to bounce back, to recover readily, to seem to defy gravity? I don’t know about you, but I cannot manage such strength alone. It takes more than just personal prayers, more than time in scripture. I must be part of a community that draws me to the center, that reminds me of the Source of All Life. I need someone to pray for me when I cannot find the words or motivation to pray for myself. I need someone to remind me that all will be well, to ease the burden, to keep me on the path ahead. Make time today to pray for those you love and cherish in this life. Ask what to pray for, and let them know you pray for them. Reach out to others and seek their prayers, trusting that God has prepared a way out of the corner you feel painted into. Let the Almighty mold your sharp corners in to gentle curves, to turn darkness into light, to show you the good in even the most dire of situations. Trust the promise of Matthew 7:7-8

            Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.

And always remember, when we trust in the Lord our God, we become like the tree whose branches bend and sway in a storm, remaining flexible and strong amid the challenges of this life. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Art entitled ‘Spiral Migration’ by Jeanne Mischo ©2012, to see more of her work, go to http://jeannemischo.wordpress.com/

Reflecting on Sisters….

SONY DSCFor the first time in many years, I have had occasion to spend time with all three of my sisters. We do not live close by, and rarely have much time to visit. Recently we have gathered to celebrate a graduation, then a bridal shower and a wedding. As we worked together, I was pleasantly surprised by how the years melted away, and we fell into familiar patterns and roles. So I was drawn to this beautiful photo of two sisters, taken by their father Ryan. I am reminded of my own father when I see Ryan with his daughters at church, but even more so when I see photos of their camping and kayaking trips. Each day we build memories, and our actions determine if those memories will be good or bad. So on this rainy winter morning I am blessed to recall family boating trips to Burlington Island, when we would swim and picnic. My youngest sister always seemed to go missing, but the island was small enough that we could easily find her. My sister that is now a civil engineer would pull plugs of clay out of the shallows, to bring home and use for her projects. My sister that is the mother of the bride would play in the sand, and gather up insects and tiny creatures to examine. I mostly swam and played in the water, talking to each in turn, and watching what was going on around me. Some would say these trips were a waste of time, that we would have been better off reading a book or honing a skill. Yet we were learning something you can’t find in a book on those sunny afternoons. We learned about each other, learned how to work as a team, learned how to be together yet give each other room. We are a group of independent, opinionated women, and often disagree. Yet when we all are pointed in the same direction, motivated by love and devotion, God help anyone who stands in the way. What I find even more amazing are the women we each call friends, often friends to more than one of us, who have also become our sisters. Make time today to create a lasting memory. Take a walk with a friend or family member, or play a game together. Pay attention to how you each react, respecting individual perspectives and methods. Accept one another as God made us, each different, each unique, each made especially for God’s purpose. Allow the Holy Spirit to bind you together in God’s will, rather than your own. Learn to work together, to understand the whole is more than the sum of the parts. And always remember, we are children of the Most High, sealed together by Christ’s blood, rather than our own. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo entitled ‘Sisters on High’ by Ryan Wick

Reflecting on Preparation….

Ladybird and Flower (2) by The Little LeafWe just returned from a family wedding, a sort of extended holiday season. We were barely beyond Christmas and New Year’s when the big day was upon us. It was so good to see family and friends join together to celebrate with the happy couple and pledge their support to this new marriage. Yet the happy day didn’t just happen. Planning and preparation began last winter, along with many discussions and suggestions from all around. So I was drawn to this lovely photo by my friend Alana of a ladybug, or ladybird as they would say in New Zealand, amidst beautiful flowers. This little beetle has chosen the most tightly closed bloom, instead of landing on the wide open flower to the left. These flowers seem to emerge from a translucent film, slowly opening and unfurling their petals for all to see. A wedding is a lot like these flowers. Some guests may only see the open bloom, while others helped along the way. Perhaps some brought their experience from years gone by, like the glimpse of the open bloom to the right. Others listened patiently or offered new ideas, helping balance the needs of two families that became one. Yet we often forget the few who shun the spotlight and are content to help in the background, allowing those they love to shine the brightest. Make time today to be someone else’s ladybird. Listen without interruption, go beyond just the spoken word, seek to understand what is left unsaid. And always remember, when you let go of the need for outward recognition, the work of your heart will be its own reward. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo entitled ‘Ladybird and Flower’ by The Little Leaf ©2012, used with her permission. To see more of her work, go to http://thelittleleaf.net/

Reflecting on Enough….

Tiniest Snowman by Rocky Ridge Refuge2012 was an eventful year for us, like a daring roller coaster ride. There were a few too many ups and downs, with steep climbs and deep drops, unexpected turns and blind corners. Despite the challenges, we trusted all would be well, and took time to celebrate the joys life brought us. So I was drawn to this unusual photo by my friend Janice, of a snowman perched on a pappadom chair. I love the tiny carrot nose, the little stick arms, the eyes and buttons embedded in the snow. On a day when most of us would have given up on the idea of a snowman, Janice chose to make this little guy instead. Where others did not see enough, Janice saw what was sufficient. Like my grandmother, she made due with what was at hand. I recall a worn out sampler that hung is her kitchen ‘Use it up, Wear it up, Make due, Do without’. We may have had a grocery store nearby, but almost all of our ‘big’ shopping meant a train ride into Philadelphia. Her shopping list hung on the cork board until we had the money and time to make the trip. Even then, at least a few items would be crossed off the list because we found a way around what we thought was so necessary to replace a few days or weeks earlier. Yet it was my grandmother who paid for my dance lessons, because grace was as necessary as the air we breathe. When Nana saw what really mattered, what nourished our bodies and souls, she ruthlessly assured we had the resources we needed. I did not grow up with designer clothes, or gourmet meals, or fancy vacations. I was offered something more precious – the knowledge that following a dream may mean sacrifice, that every decision has a cost and consequence, that there is a huge difference between what we want and what we need. Make time today to ponder the blessings of this life, the healings that have been prepared, the love of family and friends, the prayers of others when you have lost the will to pray. Stop doing and begin to just be. Let go of worldly expectations, resist the temptation of scarcity, trust you have what you need. And always remember, when we each live into who we are, there will always be more than enough to nourish our bodies, our hearts, and our souls. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo by Janice of Rocky Ridge Refuge. To learn more about Janice and her dream, visit http://rockyridgerefuge.com/

Reflecting on the Road Home….

Road Home by Steve UlleniusScience and technology are often portrayed in opposition to faith, something to be avoided, a temptation we could do without. Yet every aspect of life offers us an opportunity for good or evil. We love legends and myths because these stories endure across time, illuminating a greater truth about our human condition, showing us that each day we are facing a battle between good and evil. So I was intrigued by this amazing photo by my friend Steve. He took five frames of the same scene and combined them, to obtain a High Dynamic Range (HDR) image. I love the rich colors against dark clouds. The barn, the trees, the fields plowed under for winter, glow against the looming sky. Yet what first drew me to this image is the pothole in the drive. How often do we let something small impede our progress? We look down, instead of ahead, and lose our way home. We look for a well kept cottage when our true destination may be a weathered barn. Like Steve, perhaps we need to slow down and take more than one quick look. We need to persist in our quest, endure and overcome the obstacles, look beyond outward appearances. Make time today to choose a random act of kindness over a hasty and impatient response. Slow down and breathe in the love of God, thankful for what life brings, focusing on just this moment. Take one thing at a time, stay on the right path, do good even when no one else notices or bothers to say thank you. And always remember, it’s when we look beyond the rust and peeled paint that we find the Christ child, laid in a manger, the tiny miracle that brought salvation to the world. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo entitled ‘Framed’ by Steve Ullenius, All Rights Reserved

Reflecting on Off….

OFF by Michael EbbrechtIt’s been a rough week or two. I’m sure you have all had weeks like this, weeks where you feel a little off, as if life is simply overwhelming. So I was draw to this deceptively simple photo by my friend Michael Ebbrecht. I love the old brick and the rusted switch. It seems this switch and its three leads have survived all sorts of bad weather. The switch might even be stuck, rusted in one position. That’s how life feels to me right now, as if I’m stuck. Perhaps each individual problem doesn’t seem like much, but things just seem to multiply. It started with a trip to the emergency room in an ambulance while my husband was out of town. My daughter and good friend stayed with me, as they ruled out my heart and sent me home. This week meant more medical tests, each ruling out another possibility. So the mystery remains, while the prospect of another round of severe pain still looms over me. At the same time, my daughter and dog both had health issues, and an accident totaled my car. I don’t know about you, but at times like these, it’s difficult not to turtle in, to simply crawl into the corner and lick my wounds. The temptation to feel like a victim, to ask ‘Why me?’, to simply give up, can be hard to resist. It’s easy to cancel a party, or convince yourself that you just don’t have the energy to deal with a visit from a friend or your family. Most of all, I am tempted to skip prayer. I just can’t spare any time at all, simply can’t be bothered, and frankly, would rather not talk to God. Yet if I yield to that temptation, I’m the one severing the connection. I cut myself off from the Source of All Life, the Compassionate Creator, the Architect of the Universe. Make time today to peel away the rust, to reconnect the power, to turn the switch back on. Begin to pray again, even if it’s only an uplifted eye, a heartfelt sigh, a frustrated groan. Picture yourself leaving your burdens at the foot of the cross, as the Holy of Holies cradles you in his arms. Pray for the strength of the Almighty, rather than relying on your own. Most of all pray for patience and discernment, to be present to each situation as it arises. And remember, this too shall pass, and all shall be well, in God’s time, not our own. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo by Michael Ebbrecht ©2012, used with his permission

Reflecting on Wholeness….

Amathus ay Sunset by Tomasz HuczekThis life is full of twists and turns, unexpected joy and crushing sadness. We never know what awaits us, from day to day. A morning that begins with soaring promise can end in disaster; another morning that seems bleak beyond despair can end on top of the world. So I was drawn to this amazing photo by my friend Tomasz. His photos have been featured in previous posts, most often pictures of Kourion Beach. So I was intrigued by this photo of Amathus, one of the most ancient royal cities of Cyprus. In the midst of widespread devastation, we find a single, intact earthen jar, somehow enduring across all time. I have been struggling with an age old dilemma, why bad things happen to good people, to those who love and trust in the Lord God, and live upright and ethical lives. My prayers have been peppered with outright rage, bone crushing sadness and endless intercessions for a miracle. In many ways, these prayers resemble heated conversations with my family and closest friends. I lash out in anger, only to realize I’m not mad at them, but rather beyond frustrated with a situation I cannot control. I can vent my anger safely with those I love most, those who know me best, those who love me because of my faults, rather than in spite of them. So the psalms that begin in anger and end in praise and trust in God don’t seem so farfetched these days. I wrestle with how life has dealt such a cruel blow, as I cling to God’s mercy without beginning or end. Again and again, I turn away from the affliction that causes such anger, and give thanks for the healing that has been prepared. I question how this all can happen, while trusting that God has provided in ways I cannot begin to understand. Most of all, I cling to the blessed assurance that wholeness remains in this broken world, a wholeness born of steadfast love that was, and is, and always will be. Make time today to pour out your heart to the Almighty, the Architect of the Universe. You don’t need to hold back your anger – the Alpha and Omega is vast enough to bear it all. Leave your worldly concerns, the heaviest burdens of this broken life, in the palm of the Most High, and ask the All Merciful to draw you close to the Heart of All Hearts. And always remember, even when we are lost in great darkness, surrounded by brokenness we believe is beyond repair, our everlasting God remains in our midst, ready to bring us into the light and make us whole. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo by Tomasz Huczek ©2012, to see more of his photos, go to http://tomasz.cc/

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