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 The color of that blue sometimes doesn’t seem real. Although this is a colored pencil sketch – as are all my current designs – I’m sure this bluebird would be beautifully captured with the richness of oil pastels. That’s always the trick – how do you begin to get the right representation of the real thing? I can try, and try, and add a mark, layer, smudge, erase,  but that “copy” always appears to be just that. What a creation! What a Creator! What an Artist! I think that has been part of the drive to pick up my pencils. The word “awesome “has become far overused – but AWEsome is the best descriptor I can provide to match the positioning of my being when tracing the details of God’s creation with my eyes  while allowing my hand to attempt to follow. His details, richness… I stand amazed. There is no substitute for the real thing. Blessings. “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so humans are without excuse. “– Romans 1:20

 My son Matthew honestly is to credit/blame for the start of these bird drawings. By age 6, all he wanted for Christmas was a really good pair of binoculars – which Nana and Papa were only too happy to supply. The ponds and marsh at my parents’ make for extraordinary birdwatching and he had used their binoculars from the time he could physically stand and lift them to his eyes. By age 8, he was drawing and writing reports for school on Scarlet Tanagers–which were his favorite until this spry little Kinglet came to town. They flick their wings as they move about, and are known to be quite tame and approachable. At almost 17, Matthew still loves to spot a new feathered friend, learn its name and ask for me to draw one. This little guy is especially for my little guy. Mine is not so little, but he is our youngest and last to fly the coop. Blessings on your day, dear ones. If your nest is empty or full, I pray your binoculars are ready and focused to receive fresh joy at the site of something new!

 The wall facing the lake was all windows–turn the crank at the bottom and lower casings would crack open breezes and wave rumbles to tumble into the knotty pine. Some days, a piece of cross stitch at the table and breaks to watch the water, see the freighter move slowly along the horizon, watch the “hummies” and gulls dip and dive, and listen to my own personal “wave radio”, was all that was accomplished. “Loon!” someone might call.  “Nope only a merganser.” (I always felt a bit sorry for the duck getting lost in comparison). However, on occasion it was not a false alarm. Indeed, the loon was making a peaceful passing along the shore. The call gave him away. I hope you’ve had a chance to hear a loon  call. There is something misplaced, haunting, and somewhat human in the warbled vibrato. Simply nothing like it. It is a sound once heard, distinctly remembered and known if you should hear it again–a beautiful calling. “There is one body, and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called…one God and Father  of all, who is over all and through all and all.” –Ephesians 4:4-6

 One of the very first tasks upon arrival at Windswept Shores–my heart and home away from home–after hauling in the supplies was to make sugar water, fill the feeders, and wait for the “hummies” to enjoy. Big Doug took this job while others in our two families of four completed theirs.  Fishing poles were set on the porch, beds made, refrigerator loaded, and spies sent down wooden steps to toe-test  June Lake Michigan water temperatures, view how far out the sandbar was, and report how much beach was eaten or left by the waves. Good Harbor Bay. Our sojourn to God’s Country with the Lakes–our appropriately named hosting family–began when a married tennis player asked my dad, his college coach, to their family cottage. 1971, the Lakes and the Careys. So many years of memories, they are impossible to recount here. A small cottage. A mighty influence. I watch the ruby-throat dive to drink in the sugar-powered nectar. Such a small bird to move so mightily. I pray your day is blessed, dear ones, in small yet mighty ways!

 When Jesus spoke about worry, he said, “consider the lilies of the field. They do not toil or spin…” –Matthew 6:28. This one is a tricky one for me. I once saw a perfect cartoon portrayal of “Anxiety Girl”–able to jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound! Blue tights, green boots, white leotard showcasing an uppercase A,  flowing white cape….Put some curly hair on that cartoon girl and it’s me. And my worry, it leads to fear. However my mind knows that it is it God’s best for me. His word includes the phrase “do not be afraid” exactly 365 times. Is that just a coincidence that it is repeated precisely as many times as there are days in a year? Or is it his daily reminder that he is with us therefore all is well. Dear ones, burn the cape, cast off that cartoon girl, consider the lilies… And plant yourself and his peace!