Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.

Corrie ten Boom

I’ve always been the type of person who tends to see things that aren’t really there. This can be a good thing, as in cloud-gazing, and…well, cloud-gazing. I can easily find the hippo and the ogre’s profile and the Peter Pan hat and the one-eared bunnies in the sky.

I used to be able to see very detailed pointillistic pictures on my sprayed acoustic bedroom ceiling when I was a little girl. I also distinctly remember seeing the silhouette of a small doghouse with the nose of a dog sticking out of it, on a splatter-painted bookcase near my bed.

This uncanny ability of mine isn’t really that useful in other arenas, however.

In our master bathroom we have a brushed nickel towel ring on the wall near our pedestal sink. We hang hand towels on it, and because of germs I try to remember to change the hand towel every other day or so. I don’t see these germs like I see other things. But I know they are there.

One of our hand towels is a black and white print, to go with the black and white toile-toile-and-more-toile theme we have in our bedroom. I actually have a post coming up about all of our toile. Yes, I not only see things others don’t see, but I can occasionally read others’ thoughts, and I know what just went through your mind: this is such a fascinating blog.

Anyway, when I look at this particular black and white towel, I no longer see a swirly and symmetrical black and white pattern. I see something else, and I’ll share later what that is. For now, I’d like to know if you see anything in this black and white towel.

Anyone who has studied Psychology knows about Rorschach and his mysterious ink blots, which would supposedly reveal to a therapist what kind of a personality (disorder) his patient had.

Now, look carefully into our hand towel. What do you see there?

I’ve seen it so many times now that I can’t see anything but this one thing in our towels.

I’m anxious to learn what you might see in our hand towel. If you can’t see a thing but a black and white pattern, go ahead and say so. But if you see something else there, by all means tell us what it is.

I’ll share what I see in the hand towel soon. But you have to promise not to tell anyone…

Last Sunday at a local church in our city, many people participated in something during the morning worship service called Cardboard Testimonies. I didn’t see it, but heard from friends who did that it was very moving, even though the participants didn’t utter a word.

I found a few videos online of other churches who have done something similar, and this one I’m posting is my favorite. Michael and I have watched it again and again, and cried each time. I hope you will watch it and share it with someone who needs to see that God can put broken lives back together. The end of the video is amazing.

I could hold up at least half a dozen cardboard signs of my own. I’m so thankful that God can take any broken person or broken situation, and rebuild the ruins of their lives. He has done it for me, yes, and is still doing it.

He can do it for you. Be encouraged – there is nothing God cannot do.

You are on a beautiful beach. The sea is turquoise, the sky is filled with giant, slow-moving clouds, and the rhythmic sound of the gentle surf is like a balm to your harried soul. The sun warms your shoulders as you walk, and you breathe in the brisk, salty air. For as far as your eyes can see, you are the only person on this slab of earth, and you revel in the peace. No phone calls or text messages interrupt the solitude, no paperwork calls your name, and you do not have to dash madly to any appointments. For a brief period of time you have no obligations, and you relax.

After you walk alone for over a mile, you come across this note written in the sand:  I LOVE YOU.

What would be your first thought upon seeing those words? Oh! I’m not alone after all. Someone was here before me. And you might hold your hand up over your eyes to scan the beach in all directions, to see if you’re not as alone as you thought you were. Whether or not you ever spot the person who wrote the message in the sand, you walk on, knowing someone was there first, and had something to say.

Not once would you ever surmise that the waves and the wind formed the letters I LOVE YOU in the sand. Never would you come to the conclusion that the message appeared there as a random, fluky occurrence. Those three words are too complex to just materialize as the result of a happy accident. You would naturally (and rightly) assume that the letters in the sand were formed by design, by a being with enough intelligence to scrape them into the wet sand, perhaps with a finger or a piece of driftwood.

When I consider the world around me, when I see people and animals and plant life, and the unfathomable hugeness of the cosmic spheres and the smallness and intricacy of DNA, I can’t bring myself to believe that something so complex just happened, as a result of a lucky chemical event millions of years ago. Just as those letters on the sand (simple as they are) betray their intelligent design, so does the rest of creation, which in comparison is so much more complex than I LOVE YOU written on the beach.

I am not smart enough to debate anyone on this. I just know that when I see the magnitude and detail of every single thing that exists, it speaks to me of a very powerful and a very intelligent and purposeful creator.

I’m a Christian, and someday on the blog I will share why I think Jesus is who He says He is, and why He is worth living and dying for.

But even if I weren’t a Christian, I think I would look at the universe and say, “Someone made all this.” It’s too vast, too involved, too detailed, too specialized, too miraculous, to not have been created. Even if I didn’t name the name of Jesus, I would still believe in some kind of a God. Just like the letters in the sand, it seems very reasonable to deduce that this isn’t all an accident.

And I might just remark to myself, “I’m not as alone as I thought I was…”

I love today’s quote of unknown origin. I have found it blessedly true. I pray that your life is graced with at least one good friend…

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”

I hope to eventually share about all the members of my family, and Vivienne Irene is no exception. But since she’s only three years old, I’m not in a hurry to post a long Grandma-essay about Vivie. There will be a lot to say about her, because the word dynamic doesn’t even begin to describe the personality of the third child of my dear daughter Carolyn and her husband Jeremy.

Vivie is a unique and whip-smart package of never-ending surprises and delights. For example: she will try any food if you ask her, and she will usually like it. Marinated vegetables, capers, sauces and foods that other children are repulsed by — you name it and Vivie will probably eat it. Grandmas like this trait in a child.

Vivie

She also has a vivid imagination for such a young child. Vivid Vivie. Her right hand is her very own pet spider that she makes crawl across the table, and its name is Spidery. Her left hand is Spidery’s friend or cousin spider (I can’t remember which), named Spidericka, emphasis on the rick. Spidery and Spidericka have tremendously interesting conversations as they cavort together on our kitchen table.

Vivie has an achingly sweet little voice and can perfectly carry a tune. When she spends the night with us we lay in bed in our jammies and sing. When I sing, she stares at me somberly. When she sings, I wipe yearning tears.

Her daddy says her face is a portal into an amazing blend of enigma and accessibility, and I know exactly what he means.

When I’m with her, I feel like I’ve been swept by a pure, cool, refreshing breeze. Her name suits her so well — she is full of life and quite strong-willed. Her parents have their hands full as they diligently train and guide her, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the kind of child who will grow up to do great exploits for the Lord. (Daniel 11:32b)

Anyway, there is so much to tell about little Vivie. Someday I will write a long post about her.

But today I thought of her and wanted to share…

…just because…

I saw this delightful photograph online a while back, and its title spoke to me almost as much as the beauty and uniqueness of the picture itself — it’s called “Come Away With Me.” Framed, I think it would make a nice wedding gift. I have a couple in mind, but they’re not getting married. They’re not even dating. But I might buy the photo and put it away, just in case…

Cardinals are thought to mate for life, and of course this appeals to my old-fashioned, monogamous heart.

I am certain that this delicate pair are utterly devoted to each other and can’t abide even more than a few minutes apart. I think they listen raptly to each other sing, patiently encourage one another in their parenting duties, and provide warmth and comfort for each other during the dark and cold winter months. I’m positive they take turns at the bird feeders they frequent, call each other dearest with the tenderest tones of respect in their melodic voices, and are just generally some of the happiest and most contented birds alive.

I wonder if coming off of one week of high-dose steroids – cold turkey – has peculiarly affected me in some way…

Does the fact that my skin is crawling and all my inner organs are vibrating like a tuning fork contribute to the possibility that I might be reading just a smidgen too much into this charming little cardinal couple’s companionship?

Before we moved into the house in which we currently live (built in 1925), we decided to renovate the kitchen and dining room. This way we could have the work done and not be forced to cook and live in the midst of the mess. Here are some photos of the remodel, which took a few months to complete.

Below is a view of the previous formal dining room (burgundy walls) taken from the old kitchen (yellow walls) – you can see on the ceiling where the wall dividing the two rooms was torn down, making one big room (29 x 13). We decided that a huge eat-in kitchen would serve us better than two smaller, darker rooms.

Looking toward the same corner – this shot below was taken when the two rooms were completely gutted, so the new plumbing, heating, insulation, and flooring could be installed. Old plaster and lathe was stripped away, kitchen cupboards and counters removed and donated. I wish I had a picture to post of the mountain of debris that had to be literally shoveled away at the end of the demo. Also, the old windows were removed and new ones put in. The new sink went under the window on the right.

All the heating, plumbing, wiring and insulating were finished, new windows had been installed, and the sheetrock had been hung. We still needed cabinets and counters, sink, light fixtures, flooring, appliances, a small island and more.

We learned that when you plan to paint your walls red, you should use pink primer first. This shows our Pepto-Bismol walls, and the floor underlayment that went in before the new flooring was installed.

This photo was taken today. The room is almost complete – I’m still trying to decide on fabric for window valances.

And here’s a view taken of the other half of the kitchen. The French doors lead out onto our back deck, which overlooks Birdinal Creek.

We knew we needed a small island in the kitchen, so we bought a white one online, assembled it, and put our own touches on it. We painted it dark blue and put Delft knobs from Holland on it, to go with a lot of the blue and white things on the walls. Then we scuffed it up a little and painted it with a thin whitewash to give it a used, older look.

Now….I would like to have you over for coffee, tea and something yummy. When are you free?

I received so many interesting ideas from readers (mostly by e-mail  – Tara was full of great suggestions) for this new weekly feature on the blog. Thank you for your ideas everyone! At first I was leaning toward calling the weekly feature “Wednesday’s Wisdom,” but then I thought better of automatically assuming that whatever I post on Wednesdays will be wise. Some of it might be wise – some of the sayings are centuries old and in my humble opinion have proven worthy and true. And some of the words I post will be merely warm fuzzy kinds of sayings, not necessarily weighty with wisdom. So scratch the word wisdom for the weekly feature.

I’ve settled on “Wednesday’s Word,” for the more serious or contemplative quotes, as you can see above. And then when I post a more lighthearted saying or quotation, I’m going to use Deb A.’s suggestion and call it “Wednesday Whimsy.” She said whimsy has always been one of her favorite words and I like it too.

I don’t think I’ll always bore you with introduction or commentary with each saying I put up because they stand on their own, but for today I’ve just decided to do what comes naturally and babble in print a bit before posting the first quote. 🙂

Oh, and if you have a favorite quote or saying of your own, please don’t hesitate to send it my way.

I have always loved C.S. Lewis, so it seemed right to give him the first slot. He would probably be turning over in his grave if he knew some of his writings had been reduced to occasional appearances on an inconsequential little blog, but oh well. I’m assuming that where he is right now will make up for any damage I’m doing.

So, this week I’ll be thinking on this:

“Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important.”

C.S. Lewis

All our snow has finally melted and it looks as if we really might have some spring weather on the way. We’ve been enjoying the songs of robins and chickadees before we get out of bed and go downstairs to start our very busy mornings.

A few minutes ago when I let our Schnauzers Edith and Mildred outside for their morning constitutionals, I stopped and searched as I heard the very loud, staccato tapping of a Pileated Woodpecker in the trees at the back of our yard. These beautiful birds (whose brilliant red and jauntily peaked head feathers bring back memories of my childhood and the Woody Woodpecker cartoons I watched on television) are easy to spot if we can hear them first – they’re almost as big as crows.

We have no leaves on the trees yet and the grass is dry and brown; after a long winter signs of new life are hard to find. But today I was happy for the chance to hear that nature’s drummer is alive and well, doing just what he was created to do, rat-a-tat-tatting in our neck of the woods and reminding me to look up and listen.