Grace Category: "Good Thing You're So Cute"

"It's a glory to overlook an offense."

Proverbs 19:11

 I'll pre-empt this post by stating up front that I do know some folks will say I'm only reaping the results of my own foolishness.  Probably true.

Yet it's also true that our sweet interactions with the chipmunks, over many, many summers, have by far brought more joy than problems in the way these things usually balance out.  

Mostly they are polite, friendly but not aggressive, and keep me company on the deck as I work or read.  It's almost like having a pet, but you don't have to clean out the cage.  And up until now, they have left my deck decor alone. 

I mean, come on.  Just look at that sweet little face!  And their teeny bums bouncing down the stairs once they've stuffed their cheeks full of as much peanut as they can possibly, which is also so much fun to watch.  

This year we have two very young ones in the mix, notably smaller than the others, a little unsteady on their feet even, legs falling down the cracks of the deck boards.  They haven't had enough practice yet stretching out their cheek pockets to be able to put the smallest of peanuts in there, even when that's what they are specifically handed.  They try but, nope.  Oh my.  Adorableness overload.

And.

My flowers!!!

They are eating the blossoms of my rock trumpets!!!  This has not happened before, ever!  This is my one go-to blooming plant because it usually does so well out on my deck.  Very hearty, and attracts the humming birds.  I have had no problems with anyone nibbling on these any other year.  

But when we got back from our four days away, all the colour was gone.  Before we left, I had had to shoo away a chipmunk or two from snacking on the smaller buds.  So, even though I have no photographic evidence, no eye-witnesses, I'm afraid it's my sweet chipmunks, my little forest friends on the deck, the ones I pay money to buy peanuts for...those ones...they are the prime suspects here.  

Sigh.

Nobody's perfect, I guess.  Even the sweet cute ones among us.  Whom, foolishly, or forgivingly, either one, I still provide with peanuts.  

I had to bring the plants inside to see if they can be salvaged at all.  Oy!!!  Not cool.  So, yes, my fine forest friends....it's a good thing you're so cute.

What this brings to mind, in it's own odd kind of way, are the complexities of community.  

True that while I am here, I live somewhat in isolation.  Being on an island is good for that.  True that I am basically wired as an introvert, and the solitude that might drive others crazy is very much part of the charm for me.  

Still, I am very well aware of the richness of my relational life, and cherish the various and wonderful humans that populate it.  

But don't we all sort of, sometimes, often, tend to nibble on the blooms?  

The complex and irritating annoyances we sometimes inflict on each other, either out of instinct or ignorance, or sometimes on purpose.  The ways we seem to repay generosity by taking more than we're offered.  The ways we can help ourselves to what's not really ours, or steal the colour from someone's deck without realizing it, or maybe on purpose.  The ways we can behave according to how we're wired and not even realize how it's affecting anyone else.

And sure, I could stop with the peanuts and get out a spray bottle and do everything I can to discourage and frighten away all my little friends.  I could claim the deck for myself and my flowers, and how dare any encroach on my space.   Or even better, I could just stay inside.

But the deck is inviting, and lovely, and fresh, and wide open.  Lots of life - not just chipmunks come to visit - happens out there, which enriches mine.  

A needful caveat here.  Some actions between humans cause intense damage requiring severe consequences.  Sometimes people make themselves dangerous.  Even Paul, a huge proponent of grace and forgiveness in community, knew that there were times when it was right to draw lines in the sand (eg. Romans 16:17).  And even in lesser but significant moments of navigating interpersonal conflict, boundaries are important.  Difficult conversations need to be had.  Self advocacy is an essential skill. Honesty builds bridges. 

Still, in the day to day ways we can bump into one another, in the little things, even the repeated things, even the really annoying things, I wonder how much gentler and generally happier our lives might be if more times than not we just might simply shake our heads a little, give a good sigh, move the plants indoors, and say, "It's a good thing you're so cute."

And really, while I'm thinking about it, I find I'm so very glad for all the people who all the time do the same for me.

So we'll see if I can revive the rock trumpets.  I'll keep you posted.

When All of a Sudden...

I come around the point and I ambushed.

Oh my God!

A glimpse of it.

Of glory.

Your glory.

Of Heaven maybe.

Of Your will being done on earth, as it is in Heaven.

All glorious and right and as it should be.

And I sit here in the quiet as it screams across the sky.

Holy, holy, holy!

“If anyone is to love God 

and have his or her life filled with that love, 

God in his glorious reality 

must be brought before the mind 

and kept there in such a way 

that the mind takes root 

and stays fixed there."

Dallas Willard

"And all of a sudden

I am unaware of these afflictions

eclipsed by glory,

and I realize just how beautiful You are

and how great Your affections are for me."

David Crowder

"For our light and momentary afflictions

are achieving for us an eternal glory

that far outweighs them all."

2 Corinthians 4:17

A "Jing Jing" Monday Morning Blessing

Woke up a little too late to catch whatever still waters might have greeted the sunrise.  By the time I was awake it was breezy enough in our own little part of the channel to make it wiser to wait for sunset, or maybe even tomorrow morning if I was going to be okay going across the more open water.  Other more hearty kayakers might not be concerned, but I know my limits.

Never mind.  I am grateful for the breeze in these crazy heatwave days that have more or less launched us full on into summer.  A great day to do the laundry, and two loads are on the line already.  Things could be dry before lunch.  It's happened.

I am, of course, now stationed out on the deck, fully into a different kind of work week, my list long with the good tasks before me.  I am joined here by no less than four chipmunks (so far) who are quickly finding all my hidden peanuts, and coming up close to look me straight in the eye and dare me to deny them more.  Another happy distraction is a rather large turtle out sunning himself on the shoal.  My guess is his shell is a full dinner plate in diameter.  He seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself.  

It was good to be back with people and getting things done in the city last week.  It's good to be back here getting different kinds of things done now.  This is sort of "Phase Two" of our cottage season this year.  Two weeks before family time, which is its own thing altogether.  

For now, let the quiet concentration begin!

And a Monday morning blessing to begin your "work week," whatever that looks like for you.

Note the poetic repetition for the sake of emphasis, as in 'indeed," or in Thai "jing jing!"

"May the favour of the LORD our God rest on us;

establish the work of our hands --

yes, establish the work of our hands.

Psalm 90:17

Just In Time

 

"LORD, teach us to number our days

so we may apply our hearts to wisdom."

Psalm 90:12

It already feels a little too hot and the day has yet to rise to it's predicted heat potential.  

The heatwave forecast over the next few days is already upon us, as Ken and I make our way back to the Bay later this afternoon.  

First, worship with our peeps at Highview.  Oh so glad that this time back in the city can include this!

Then, home for a quick lunch, pack the coolers, and then on the road.

By tonight I'll be all settled down on the boat with my journal and a cup of iced tea.

Just in time.

This will begin a longer cottage stint, with two weeks just Ken and I and a whole lot of cottage projects to get to in around our not-yet-retired work status.  Then two weeks of family.  And after that more comings and goings, but no city visit again until the end of July.  

We're doing it.  This plan of here and there we've imagined for decades now, unfolding in this time and space in ways more or less as we hoped for, with just a few unforeseen but manageable variables thrown in to keep us suitably humble and on our toes.  

I take nothing for granted.  Especially now, right now, right here in this era of our lives where good health and strength are largely still our blessing, but reason and reality bring pause.  These days are fully embraced, absorbed wholly, appreciated deeply and intentionally.   Because we're here, now, and it's summer and we can go back and forth freely, and there are no end of good and wonderful things to do and be right now.

Just in time.

Time for this.  Time for now.

Oh Friday!

 

As anticipated, the week has been 'robust.'  

The contrast between the cottage calm of not having anywhere else to be for an extended fourteen days, and the city chaos of fitting in twelve 'appointments' in four and a half days could not be more sharply defined.  And since one of those 'appointments' was for two recommended-for-my-age-group vaccines, by yesterday I was feeling rather whooped.  In the fog and frenzy I even double booked myself and failed to communicate my absence to one of the parties, which caused some concern, and did not feel good at all.  

'All the bookings' are of my own doing, needful and productive, and largely (needles notwithstanding) highly enjoyable.  Also, I find it important to stay mindful of who I am and how I respond when things are more demanding.  It can provide insights to explore and be shaped by.

Still.  I woke up this morning glad for Friday and glad that this robust week is winding down just a bit.

Soon enough I can be back to where a state of calm focus can produce good and thoughtful work, where there can be more emphasis on input than output for a bit, and where I can focus my energies on what is important but not urgent.  

Meanwhile, a sunrise walk helps reset perspectives.  

Yes, even in the city.  

And for this I am new-mercies grateful.  

Lovely Liftings

Flashback to June 8.

Another fun thing about coming home when you've been away for your birthday, is that you get to open some special mail and feel celebrated all over again.  (And I have it on good account there's even another one waiting for me at the church!)

As well as all the lovely greetings via texts, emails and also on line -- for which I am grateful to social media for making remembering everyone's birthday so happy and simple and easy -- I actually did receive quite a few 'real' cards this year, only some of which are shown in this picture.  The others are still at the cottage where I also put them on display the day of.

Birthdays are good for this, for eating cake and being remembered and encouraged.  But I honestly believe we should be smattering love and lifted spirits and encouragement around to all kinds of people every single day.  And we have so many ways to do that now!  It's so easy.

There's a lot going on in our world right now that deeply troubles many, many souls.  In fact, I think we would all be hard pressed to find someone not worried about the economy, distressed about politics, anxious for marginalized people, wondering about the future.  Everyone in our orbits, birthday or not, could use a little lovely lifting.

Simple instructions from Paul again, this time to the church in Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians 5:11):

Encourage one another, and build each other up.

Maybe that's the way we can tell if the day was a success or not.  If we did that for at least one other person.

So thanks so much, everyone, for all the birthday greetings, and all the ways you continue to inspire me and encourage me and help me in my becomings.

Backyard Becomings and Long Haul Learnings

 

The New#2 Shed

If you have to leave the beauty of Georgian Bay, it's a very good bonus to come back to this.  

Over the past two weeks while we've been gone, our landscapers have begun the first phases of what will be a two or three season plan.  Shout out to Wildlife Gardening www.WildlifeGardening.ca. for their design, knowledge, careful listening to our ideas, and plain old grunt work in creating the unique spaces and natural look we were hoping for.

Before

Now

(To the left of the pail we will build up the grade for a ramp that will be level with our front door.)

Before

Now

(Behind the red umbrella there will be a fence to separate our yard from the neighbours'.

Can you see the massive rhubarb plant right at the bottom?)

The beginnings of the ground cover that will fill in the spaces.

A 'rain garden' is also in the plan for this year, and I can't wait to see how that not only makes best use of the downspouts and general water flow over the property, but how it adds to the overall look as well.

Also this year is the laying of patio stones to finish off the hoped for eating area, and leveling off  and expanding the driveway.

Another shout out to "Shed in a Day" who lived up to their name and had this built and ready in under two and a half hours yesterday.  Literally, there was nothing there in that space when they arrived.

Now for the fun of sorting and rearranging the contents of the old shed (which Ken and I will inherit by virtue of proximity), and storing the common tools etc. in the most convenient spaces.

Existing#1 Shed

Development of this space, into a private outdoor place to sit and relax, 

is scheduled for next season.

Can't help but consider where I was at emotionally last year at this time, particularly when it comes to the whole process of 're-nesting' that we've done over the past, well, two or three years actually.  

Last June we had just signed back on the offer and were working towards the July 18 closing date.  It was all about uprooting and leaving.  And oh, let's throw in a ruptured appendix at this point, just for fun.

This year we are settling and planting again, and breathing again.  I can hardly express how good it is to be where we are now.  How 'normal' it feels.  How, frankly, relieved I am.

Because in between there was a lot of letting go, of not knowing, and of white knuckle faith that we were doing the right thing and that we would find ourselves 'at home' again.

And here we are.

Psalm 138:8 (ESV)

The LORD will fulfill His purposes for me.

Your love, O LORD, endures forever --

do not abandon the works of Your hands.

Every Week a New Beginning

"The beginning is the most important part of the work."

Plato

Monday morning back to work.  Perfect day to set up on the deck and absorb the environmental inspiration for the tasks ahead.

It will be a different kind of week.  We return to the city for just under a week to keep appointments for routine check ups, meet face to face with colleagues, take care of some city banking, celebrate a baby shower with friends, and gather for worship at Highview.  Whew!  Packing in a lot before returning to the more meditative work space I enjoy here.

Hoping for a focused, productive morning, which I'm well set up for given I have a good night's sleep under me and have already been around the island in the fresh dawn of the day.  I've had several visitors stop by to say good morning, including the bird-parents of not one nest but two we're hosting so far this season; both a jenny wren and a grackle family.  

We've promised Abby a beach day, so we'll be out for the afternoon at the Tomb (Giant's Tomb Island that is).  Looking like a good day for it.

So here's to new beginnings, and good things for the week ahead.

A Quiet Kind of Father's Day

 Caught the lift off of the blue heron, coming around the point on this morning's time in the kayak.

Water was calm under a cloudy sky this Father's Day morning.  

We are having a quiet one here for now.  All will be celebrated later next month when our family does the combo celebration marking Mother's Day, Father's Day and an odd assortment of spring and summer birthdays.  

Today it's just about a pancake breakfast and BBQ supper and "whatever you feel like doing, Dear," on a quiet, nothing-pressing kind of day.  

That's for Ken.  There are other Fathers to thank and celebrate as well.  Men in my life who make our family (all the lavish scope of it) and the world (both here and on the other side of the planet) a little better just by showing up faithfully to be fully present in the lives of our collective children.  You make us proud.  You make our lives safer and wilder at the same time.  You are our heroes.

So Happy Father's Day for whoever that celebrates for you.

Delicate Strength

Psalm 18:32-34

It is God who arms me with strength

and keeps my way secure.

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;

he causes me to stand on the heights.

He trains my hands for battle;

my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

Just outside my window as a work this morning, this friend shows up.

We do see deer here from time to time, but coming right down in front of the cottage like this is a bit more rare.  

She came up even closer to the south side, and I was able to take these shots through the window.  Yet even at this distance, I was again reminded of just how strong these creatures are.  I think I often regard them as being so delicate.  But they are quite muscular and sure-footed, and can bound away in great leaps tails high if threatened.

I remembered this psalm, where the writer was himself feeling threatened, and the comfort that God's equipping presence can bring.  

I was tempted to cut things off at verse 33 and leave out the battle and bronze bow reference.  But even though I lean very much on the pacifist side of things when it comes to actual, physical warfare, these days I feel certain events and their arising injustices might require me to rise up and take a stand.  

And also.  For right now.  I am grateful to be in a place so peaceful, a deer thought it safe enough to come and get a drink this morning.  

Fully present in the moment.
 

Abby All Over Again

The very first summer Abby came to spend time at the cottage with Gramma and Grandad all on her own she was six, and everything was magic.

In later years her brother would join her, then a cousin and a two more brothers, until the cottage time with 'just the kids and no moms and dads' took on a rowdy, wonderful space of its own.  All sensational, and we wouldn't have it any other way, mess and noise included.

But there was something soft and indelible about those first two (I think) years when it was just Abby.

Because....she's Abby.

Our times on the deck so early in the morning, feeding Scout the seagull, and the chipmunks.  I still have the same purple housecoat that used to wrap around us both on the chair in the chill of the morning while we waited for customers.

Endless afternoons hunting for the frogs she was not afraid to hold in her hands and carry safely to the little day habitat we'd built.  Always letting everyone go right before bed.

Stories we made up together, and swims to the shoal, and little picnics down the channel.  She was all cottage confident, especially in the water.  When I complained about not really wanting to climb up and actually go onto the shoal, an awkward heave-ho even before I was a Gramma, she cheered me on.  "Come on Gramma!  I know how to get up there.  Follow me!!"

And in those times, all the Gramma spaces in my soul filled right up.  Just because she was there, so little, so gentle, our sensitive girl with the fabulous imagination, and shoal-climbing super powers.

That first year, when it was time for her to go home again, I waved from the dock until I couldn't see the boat anymore.  Then I came back up to the cottage and had a good cry.

And then this year.

All on her own on the GO Train, with two transfers no less!  Up earlier in the season because in July and August she'll be a working woman, and will not be able to come for the whole family fun.  

So right now, just us.  Like before.  Still magic.  Only she's older and mostly kills her own spiders now.

And she paints.  And she plays Scrabble with Gramma and Grandad.  And she goes out to with a net and comes back with clam shells, because there weren't any frogs to be seen.  And she loves to be here.

And I can't even explain how this is beautiful to me, how beyond gifted I know I am to have this particular human in my life, and her wanting to be here with me.  And I can and will say and feel amazing things about the other four, for sure.  But this time, right now, right here is with Abby.  And it's quite wonderful, and lovely and surprising.  

I'm not exactly sure what I expected it to be like, this Gramma thing, when they were older.  

This is more than I expected.  Much more.

[Pictures and content posted with permission.]

Let the Morning Bring Me Word

 

A cloudy morning with rain predicted for most of today, and I don't mind.

There's an essential goodness to the rain, and sweet and slow cottage vibe when it does that whiffs of safe seclusion.  I have a lovely list of happy things to do; a mixture of ministry, and cottage projects, and reading, and a little bit of research, but none of it urgent.  So I pause before beginning any of it, to just be glad.

And open.

Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in You.

Show me the way I should go,

for to You I entrust my life.

Rescue me from my enemies, LORD,

for I hide myself in You.

Teach me to do Your will,

for You are my God;

may Your Spirit lead me on level ground.

Psalm 143:8-10

A good prayer to begin any day, I think.  

Ever-Praise: A Birthday Song

Psalm 71:5-6  

For you have been my hope, Sovereign LORD,

my confidence since my youth.

From birth I have relied on you, 

you brought me forth from my mother's womb.  

I will ever praise You.

Today I am 68.  

What a gift!  

And while it's true that more recently 'my doctors find me ever so much more interesting' (thank you Parker Palmer), the positives far outweigh the negatives for me at this point.  Without minimizing some of the challenges that any of us Boomers might be facing these days, I find myself approaching this birthday with hope and optimism and delight.

So, in the spirit of "I will ever praise You," I offer a 68th birthday song, in the form of a list of sorts.

Things I love about this era of my life that I could not say were true or even possible for my younger self:

• The richness of life-long relationships.
• The happy surprises inherent in new friendships.
• Having friends in every age-bracket, different cultures, and with a wide variety of philosophical, political, and religious views.
• The depth of a long, long love (47 years this August).
• Seeing my adult children engage meaningfully in their lives, and how honest they've been in the face of their sorrows.
• The indescribable joy of grandchildren.
• The wonder of also being an adopted Gramma to so many more of them!
• Less tethered to geography; more tied to people.
• Finding that work-life sweet spot of doing what you love.
• All that there is left to learn!
• What comes around has gone around a few times before, so there's less to fret about.
• Being better friends with my body.
• By now I know so many songs!
• Finding out that sunrises and sunsets never get old.
• The freedom to simplify.
• Not as afraid of bees and spiders (or creepy things in general).
• More aware of and less threatened by being wrong.
• More able to self-advocate without losing my cool.
• I've had enough time to practice it, so there's more gratitude and less complaining, which is such a nicer, lighter thing to carry around.
• With nothing left to prove, I'm more free to become myself.
• The faithful presence of God is more real even as it becomes more mystical, and I love Him more and more because of it.

And oh the list could be longer, but I'll leave it at that for now.

On to all the delightful traditions of a cottage birthday.

And yes, there'll be cake.  Of course there'll be cake!

Here On the Deck

A quiet morning with the promise of some warmer temperatures later in the day.  For now I am content to be here on the deck, glad in the cool stillness, waiting for the hummingbirds.  

The flowers have been chosen specifically to invite them.  

I'll soon be joined by some chipmunks no doubt.  Yesterday, there was one along the pathway to the bunkie that, if I didn't know better, I would swear he recognized me from last fall.  Didn't scurry away in a panic, but stopped and came back a little towards me while I promised him peanuts if he visited me on the deck.

I haven't been out in the kayak yet.  

The water is so low that my launching spot at the dock needs some adjustment.  And I want to clear out the driftage before I set that up.  But this morning would have been perfect for it.  Maybe later.  For now I'm happy, just here on the deck.  It's a good way to start the day.  Not needing anything.  Not wanting anything.  Just being here, on the deck.

Surely I have stilled and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child I am content.

Psalm 131:2

It's not quite warm enough yet for me to set up my work station here outside.  So I'll go inside, refill my teacup, and try to get at a few things on the list.  But I'll be back.  

And, oh yeah!  It's Friday!  So happy that.

 

Day One

I am welcomed this morning by Heron, a family of Canadian Geese, and Beaver (who did not give permission for his picture to be posted on line, but was quite cordial otherwise).

It's cool and quiet, the early morning rain starting to give way to a somewhat brighter sky and the sunny breakthroughs promised for later this afternoon.  Fire is on, tea kettle is on, sweaters are on, and it all makes me even more grateful for the glorious summer teaser day we were given yesterday to make our way across the water.

Despite the usual physicality of packing and unloading and schlepping any trip up requires, let alone the first of the season, I am awake this morning feeling stronger and better rested than I have in the past six to eight weeks.  I'd say I slept like a baby, but I had a few of those and I know that's not how they sleep, so.  No, I slept like someone breathing in Georgian Bay air for the first time in a long time, laying down deep into the comfort of the cottage bed, profoundly resting in the peace of this place.

I am filled with the anticipation of 'all the things.'  And there is joy and energy in imagining it.  And also a gloriously unrushed sense to it all.  There's time.  There's time for putting on the fire, and drinking tea, and writing family times on the wall calendar, and making project lists, and receiving the welcome of friends.

Last season I counted 103 days.  That factored in our big move, an appendectomy, a trip to Thailand and an extended cottage time into the fall.  There's not enough math room in my brain to make any estimates or predictions for this year, even if I was so inclined.  

Right now, here on day one, I'm more inclined to pay attention to how it unfolds before me, and what the Spirit wants to do to form my soul while I'm here.

Easing Into Summer Mode

Soon.

The goal is Wednesday morning.  

It has always been the intention, the dream, in this little-house-not-yet-retired-but-getting-there era of our lives, that we would experiment with living and working in two seasonal locales.  We've finished our very first winter/early spring in the new house.  And now we get to head back to our other home on the Freddy Channel in Georgian Bay.

Because last year was the big move year, and then we had to wait for construction deadlines and all that, we stayed a gloriously long time up at the cottage well into October.  What a beauty!  But it was because we had to.  Now that we are free to come and go as we please, this really feels like the launching of that grand both-places experiment, for reals.

Good news is that, as much as I can't wait to be there, out in the kayak, reveling in the sunsets, I'm also not desperate to get out of here.  Our small home isn't too small at all, and back here in the far corner of the yard, away from the street, it's actually mostly quiet.  Even those hot days we had in May (we did have some if you can recall with how chilly it's been more recently), we felt the benefits of top-of-the-line insulation and well-placed ceiling fans.  Everything here is quite comfortable.

Still, there's a very different pace of life on the island.  It's part of being more isolated, with few if any  social engagements, and the absence of human-noise, particularly first thing in the morning.

There's times around the island to count, and blueberries to gather, and chipmunks to befriend.  Can I convince the jays to take from my hand this year?  And I'll write.  So much to inspire my heart when I'm closer to the Creator's creation, and it heals me to write.  It does.

And there's the bunkie ceiling to finish off, and the old kitchen next door to restore into usability, and always wood to chop and stack.  Stuff to do, for sure.

In all of it, thanks to the wonders of technology, we can stay connected, send and receive emails and texts, even join in on Zoom meetings.  We do not abandon the good work entrusted to us.  But we can do it from home; working from home, but just in a different place. 

I do not take any of this for granted.  Especially right now as I continue to listen to my body in its healing phase.  I am also grateful that, while there's plenty of good work to do, right now it's much more behind the scenes and advance planning, nothing urgent necessarily, so I can pace myself and dig down deep into the work free of any pressing deadlines.  That's a sweet spot I intend to thoroughly enjoy.  My doctor completely approves.

And, hey, an added bonus.  Now when we leave the house for a while, it's not really left alone, as it were.  Mail can be brought in easily, the landscaping can still happen when we're away, all under the convenient watch of our son, who's back door is literally 3 meters from our front porch.

So the next few days will be packing.  But even in that, it shouldn't be too difficult since the opening crew hauled up a lot of supplies last weekend.  It could be chilly I'm thinking.  But that's what the wood is for, and we figured out how to stay warm last fall anyways.  And it's June now.  Summer is most certainly on the way.

What a full spring it's been.

Summer fills in different ways.

We sang this yesterday at Highview's Anniversary Service.  There's a lot of cottage in this verse.

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,

Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,

Join with all nature in manifold witness,

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

And to all my Cognashene friends....Looking forward to reconnecting really soon.