2010 Big Lake Half Marathon

2010 Big Lake Half Marathon This is the half marathon I'm running May 8th. coming up fast!

Spring

Spring


It rides on sunlit breezes,
And alights upon the trees,
It beacons buds to open wide,
And release their vital seeds.

It wafts among the earthy woodlands,
And stirs the creature’s sleep,
And moves them from dormant burrows,
Where winter, still, did keep.

It trills among the finch and robin,
As they spread their wings to flight,
And in the staccato rap of the woodpecker,
And owl, swooping aloft each night.

It trickles in the glades and streams,
That flow to rivers wide,
It laps the pebbles, trips o’er stones,
Oh onward, sea bound ride.

It nudges, stirs to action,
With a new domestic list—
“Till the garden, gather seeds,
And pick up winter’s cast off sticks.
Rake the lawn, dump the leaves,”
Until the chores--
Daylight savings exceeds.

And in the damp, pungent soil at last,
It beacons hands while the sparrows sing,
And the rains trickle past,
And the flower’s blooms amassed,
Fresh sunlit beams are cast,
Winter’s hold, at last, is dashed.
Alas! It is s spring!

And in the hazy, twilight hour,
When the peepers start their song,
I can sit-- warm, tired, and contented,
Amphibious choral work accented,
And drift in the peaceful slumber sing,
And rest, dear heart,
For it is spring!

Phantom Smiley Faces

Almost every morning after I get out of the shower there is a little boy outside in the hall doing a potty dance, waiting patiently for his turn. I smile, kiss him on the forehead, and go into our bedroom to finish my morning routine. Five minutes later when I return to the bathroom to comb my hair and finish getting ready I'm almost always greeted by artwork on the steamy mirror and windows. They are phantom smiley faces.
When this first started, I thought it was cute--but after several days it got a little annoying trying to get ready for work and apply eyeliner through smeared smudgy mirrors. I wiped them off and almost opened my mouth to put a kabosh on the whole thing. But something made me stop. I pictured myself 20 yrs from now--all the days I would miss of phantom smiley faces to greet me. I realized I would miss that more than I missed having a clear mirror to primp.
It isn't always smiley faces that greet me. Sometimes it's pirates with eyepatches and peg legs--all scrawled in the steam of the mirror and window. Even after the steam dissipates the little oily smudgy outlines of their artwork remains. Today I was greeted by a smiley face with thick eyebrows that seemed to be winking at me. He had a thick, broad nose and jolly fat cheeks. He was smirking--not exactly smiling.
The primary artist of these phantom smileys has gotten his older brother in on the act on several occasions--so that I am greeted with whole magnificient scenes playing out on the bathroom mirror. Usually there is some kind of battle or dramatic event unfolding. Nothing like a shot of testosterone inspired art to jump start your morning.
I've come to appreciate these little pictures. It's a morning greeting. But sadly, I fear the time I will enjoy these is as fleeting as the steam. I know one day they will stop, that Logan will be more interested in primping in the mirror and fixing his thick curly hair than drawing pictures for me. I'm so glad I didn't stop him. I want to enjoy this while it lasts. It's one of those intanglible things no camera can capture--it has to be locked up safely in your memory for another day--and someday I will look back and smile about trying to put my eyeliner on through phantom smiley faces.

The Potter

The Potter’s fingerprints are on me since my first breath was
Drawn,
He molds me and He grows me,
Shapes me for His sovereign plan
His tender care is faithful e’en when I fail to understand.

Though the fiery storms of life pelt me,
I still tarry in His hand,
For within His kiln I know all dross will vanish
In His plans.

For all the joys, triumphant days, and dreams realized,
For all the sorrows, disappointments, tears in my eyes,
He counted each and every one,
And through it all He knew,
How many hairs upon my head remained--He always knew.

So when my spirit stirs within me and my restless soul is weary,
When I want to shirk the task before me or complain my lot seems dreary,

I remember He who holds me and has pressed me in His palm.
I recall His loving mercy and His grace I called upon,
For the vessel surely cannot, to the Potter say,
“I do not want to fulfill your plans for me today”.

For the Potter’s fingerprints are on me and He shapes me in my place,
And one blessed day in glory I’ll meet my Potter face to face.