As I walked around today, it has become more and more evident that winter has been pushed aside and spring is nudging its way forward. Spring greenery, flowers all around and welcome warmth provide the evidence. A welcome transition, indeed.
This morning brought another transition of sorts for me. It started with an invitation from my grandson to run an errand with him to the hardware store. He needed a part for something on his bike. “OK. Sounds good.”
So we piled in the van, him in the driver’s seat and me riding shotgun. At the store we found the part and he paid for it. At the gas station, he pumped and bought the gas and I sat and waited.
Not so long ago I would have been the driver, gas pumper and purchaser. Things have changed. My young grandson is moving from childhood into adulthood. A welcome transition, for sure.
Today was the funeral for my best high school friend. After a long illness the Lord took Tom to be with him and he is now with Jesus. His soul and Parkinson’s plagued body are made whole. Through it all, in his life and now in death, he belongs to his faithful Savior, Jesus.
For me, today has been a day to think about transitions. One season changing to the next. A grandson no longer a child but moving on into adulthood. A dear friend passing from a time of struggle and disease to eternal life. Blessings, indeed.
There have been some nose-running, cold mornings this winter. In spite of that, I’ve taken my camera out, along with my (still learning how to use them) close-up rings to see if I could come up with at least five frosty photos good enough to post. Here’s what I have…
When grandkids live half a continent away, it’s a treat to get an unsolicited note.
My middle school age grandson’s simple message was, “Look what I did today.” It was followed by a few dozen photos taken on a day off from school after an overnight ice storm.
As a proud Grampa, I thought I’d share. Here are a few of his shots.
I remember back then when walking along the swamp path I remember seeing lavender, pink and orange Hugging the horizon A rich palette of color Leaking through skeletal trees Announcing the arrival of the sun To light the day.
I remember walking not so long ago Same path, same sky, same everything Yet a gray shroud laid across the sky holding back A flood of color trying in vain to influence the day Amidst steel wool clouds rolling out an even darker gray All making me wonder, why bother If there is no sunrise To light the day
Then I remembered something As I walked along the swamp path I remembered some wisdom from a friend who said Even though the kaleidoscope of morning beauty Is hidden and all seems lost, grim, hopeless Unseen on the other side of the gray There’s always a sunrise To light the day