The Grace of Again

Abby saw it first.  A freshly emerged dragonfly, hanging magnificently from her last-stage shell on the railings of the deck stairs, wings still wet. 

I have come across the crunchy, deserted pre-winged remnants lots of times.  Un-beautiful bug-ghosts, stuck to the side of the dock, or on the outer walls of the cottage proper, or places on the deck, like this.  Over the years, I have also made friends with probably hundreds of dragonflies in all their adult glory, as they've landed gently on the page of my journal as I was writing, or hitched a ride on the gunnels or even my hat while out in the canoe. 

But I had never met one quite so new. 

I wish I could say we were patient photo-scientists, staying faithfully on the stairs to capture every detail of this newly released creature's first moments.  I could have posted pictures of her first wing spread, and perhaps even her first flight.  But the truth is that something distracted us from our find - perhaps that pesky seagull Scout trying to steal another peanut and scaring away the chipmunks - and when we looked again, the dragonfly was gone.  On the lift of a breeze, no doubt.  It was less than 20 minutes, for sure.

But I'm glad for this picture.  It's how I feel these first weeks back from my summer Sabbath.  Free of the crunchy, un-beautiful fatigue and any creeping cynicism of last season's demands,  It's as if, in the sunlight and by the water, I emerge fresh, new, and ready to fly again.  For this dragonfly, it would only happen once.  For me, it seems as if I am given this grace every year.

I will need new wings for these next two months in particular, as I prepare not only to help launch Highview into a strong and forward-moving ministry season, but also to spend three months in Thailand for my educational sabbatical.   I will need the filling of the mornings on the deck and the evenings on the dock.  I will draw from the times spent with the kids in longer, more relaxed ways, and the laughing, easy time spent with Ken uninterrupted by, well, anything.  I will be fed by my solitude and reading and dancing gently in the kitchen, making supper and listening to Steve Bell while the sun diamonds the water between the dock and the shoal.

I am hanging in expectation, wings still wet, curious to see where the wind of the Spirit will take me.

Joy Riding

Without question the high point of my day today was riding in the front of the boat with Zachary on our way to Picnic Island.  

The trip itself is a joyful ritual, first initiated by Ken's Mom and passed on now to our grandkids. It involves crazy amounts of ice cream, eaten on the benches outside, in a race with the summer sun's attempts to crown you the messiest kid ever.     And today the ice cream did not disappoint. 

It was the ride in, though, that brought me the best fun.   Watching Zachary's excitement in riding the waves - pronounced by him in two syllables "wave-ez" - it was sheer, unbridled joy, and it was electric.  

His face was wild with his wide-mouthed tooth-gapped smile even as the boat picked up speed.  And every time, Every Time we approached the wake of another boat,  he would squeal in anticipation, hold on to the rope with all the might of his newly six year old self, and ride those waves like they were the best thing at the CNE. 

And if the waves had been particularly significant,  he would watch them roll off to the side and declare with breathless respect,  "That was amazsching!"

And for the whole way there and the whole way back, it never got old.  Not for him.  Not for me. 

It occurs to me that for this reason and oh so many others,  God has sent this incredible little person to the planet, at least in part, to infuse my soul with joy.   I dare anyone to ride alongside this nautical cowboy and not get a good dousing of the stuff.  And God knows I need it. 

My personality is not naturally joyful.  It's not. My kindergarten report card stated, "Ruth Anne takes life too seriously."  True thing. 

Whatever joy radiates from me has been generously and graciously provided to me by God through other conduits, like Zachary. I am quite sure this is why I find myself often and providentialy in the spillover zone of another's joy, laughing out loud, feeling the spiritual energy, and knowing I am receiving a great gift. 

So tonight I am pondering again all the joys of my life.

 They are many.  I am blessed.  And the joy of the Lord is my strength, yes He is.  

Riding the joy waves this summer.

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