We made homemade suet cakes when I was little. The flicker, hairy, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers were frequent visitors. If an occasional prehistoric-looking pileated woodpecker visited the yard, he would stay transfixed on his tree hammering away to win his prized breakfast buffet. The powerful beak and diligent work ethic yielded amazing results—great for the woodpecker, but sometimes quite damaging to the wood left behind. Sometimes I think I too can get so invested in banging my head against a wall in pursuit of a goal, that I fail to see the destruction my reckless path can leave behind.
The red-bellied pictured here is a gentle giant of the woodpeckers that visited our suet. Beautifully marked, patient, worked for what he needed, but exhibited enough self-control to leave the wood deck railings alone! In a world full of woodpeckers, I’d choose to be a red-bellied:) Blessings on your day, dear ones. “Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed.”—1Peter 1:13
Screaming cats. That’s what I thought the first time I heard a peacock. Certainly not pleasant to the ears. What an incredible visual, however! The iridescent shimmer and shine and fan of blue-eyed feathers looks “other-worldly “as the peacock parades. The strut, I guess is always attributed to pride. What if the peacock is just doing what it’s meant to do? I mean the poor guy, he’s got a huge train of feathers to carry around that make him a big ‘ole target for prey and yet it’s what is suppose to attract his mate and guarantee the survival of his species. Perception. Handicap? Strength? What if the thing that weighs me down and can be so difficult to carry and vulnerable is also the thing that makes me the most beautiful in someone else’s eyes? Sometimes I wonder if that peacock strut isn’t so much pride as RELIEF–that instead of dragging those big ‘ole train feathers behind him, he’s finally decided to lift them up, open wide, reveal the load he’s been carrying, and trust God to make it into something not only beautiful, but “other-worldly”. Blessings on your day, dear ones. Here’s to struttin’ your stuff in praise of the Most High King!
Books. I love the feel…smooth covers, raised/embossed titles, heavy paper, tight binding. I love the smell…ink, copy, “new”. I love beautiful illustrations of children’s storybooks…oversized, animated, engaging, ethereal, a feast for the eyes. I love the words…simple, complicated, descriptive, ambiguous, letter by letter a world created, a lesson learned, an insight given, a transported soul, a widened mind. I suppose it is no wonder that I became an English teacher. Maybe the only thing I enjoy more than reading stories is telling them. We are all storytellers, I believe–music, art, print. Our lives and loves tell our story.
Amy Carey Hall Creations 