Curled up...

I am curled up in a chair in the corner of my bedroom, trying to be cozy, and ignore the snow and cold outside my window.

I'm munching on honey roasted peanuts, and mandarin oranges.

I'm wrapped in a favorite blanket.

I'm falling in love with children's movies again. (They seem to be some of the few that I can watch safely these days, without worrying about nightmares, dreams, or other odd effects.) I've watched two in the last day or so. "Kung Fu Panda," which made me laugh and laugh (I do love Jack Black!), and "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium" which reawakens a child-like delight and sense of joy and wonder in me each and every time I watch it.

I'm wearing a favorite sweater. An over-sized, chunky, cable knit wool sweater, roughly the color of oatmeal, stolen years ago from my dad's wardrobe. A purchase straight from Ireland, a souvenir of a summer he spent back packing around Europe in the late seventies. It's a comfort item really, and always the sweater I reach for first on chilly weekend days, to pair with jeans, a blanket, my favorite chair, and a good book.

There are hymns playing in the background, solo piano arrangements of long-time favorites. No voices, just the piano, bringing life to the words that resonate in my heart from early childhood.

I've scattered lit candles around my bedroom. Something like 11 of them. My bedroom is in the back corner of our house, and has two outside walls, and as such can be a bit drafty at times. The candles cut the chill, and add light and and atmosphere to my space.

There is a hint of lavender in the air (from one of the candles), and a scent of incense (I've burnt a bit of one of my favorites at intervals through the afternoon.

I've spent the afternoon with the book of Jeremiah, captured at moments by the words of the "weeping prophet." Words that are stirring my heart, and causing my fingers to move a pen across the pages of my journal.

My heart, for the moment at least, is quiet. And so, I leave you with these words from Jeremiah...

This is what the Lord says:
"Don't let the wise boast in their wisdom,
or the powerful boast in their power,
or the rich boast in their riches.
But those who wish to boast
should boast in this alone:
that they truly know me and understand that I am the Lord
who demonstrates unfailing love
and who brings justice and righteousness to the earth,
and that I delight in these things.
I, the Lord, have spoken!"
(Jeremiah 9:23-24 NLT)

Unless a grain of wheat...

I took this photo in my favorite park this morning. I've been taking a lot of photos of grass and wheat like plants lately. The phrase "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies..." has been running through my head with a great deal of frequency recently.

I've been dreading the coming of winter in many ways this year. More than just the usual ways. I've dreaded more than the colder weather, or the snow. I've dreaded the season of death, and dormancy. Of cold and waiting and wondering and watching.

Last winter was long, and very marked by pain, and, as this winter has drawn nearer, I've found myself fighting against it, wondering whether or not I would be able to survive such a season again.

"unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies..." Over and over, on repeat in my head. Grass and wheat capturing my attention each time I venture to the park with my camera.

I long for my life to be one marked by growth, by newness, by the things of spring. I long for it to be fruitful.

"unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit."

May my life be one that is fruitful, even if the coming of fruit must first be marked with death.

First Snow

This is what the park looked like this morning.