Saturday, October 29, 2011

Fall Colors

Driving from Nashville, Tennessee, to Wytheville, Virginia, in October can be absolutely breath-taking. Even though we missed the peak colors by a week or two, it was still beautiful as we drove through the hills and deciduous trees recently.

It set me to thinking about the seasons and how things can be so different from one season to the next. The season of our lives lately has certainly shown much change. From the 'safe' living environment of Dufur that our children had only known all their lives to suddenly not knowing any certain place as home and of course, then Uganda becoming our home.

Most recently, every day has brought changes, never knowing what to expect from one day to the next. Our lives have kind of been in a holding pattern as we visit loved ones here in the states. But that holding pattern has been somewhat like traveling the hills, up and down through all the beauty life has to behold with its changing colors as we go.

Beneath all the beautiful color, our souls lie somewhat dormant as we wonder what will happen next. We must surrender our personal desires all over again. We msut remind ourselves that what we give up in the states pales in color to what we know God has for us in the next season of returning to Uganda before long -- not so much in Uganda but in Him. We are reminded once again that the Creator of the universe can create beautiful color in our souls wherever He chooses. And, for now, we are content in knowing that He has placed us in Uganda. May His colors show brightly through us as we return in obedience to His call and may we surrender to Him fully in order to do so.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Not Just Toys

I don't know about you, but part of going to Grandma's house meant a visit to the toy basket or the toy drawer. It was always there, waiting for us to explore and enjoy. There were special toys that we only played with on our visits there. For me, it was that special doll at Grandma Kilday's house in Keizer. It was the bottom drawer of the green desk at Grandma Thompson's where there was an assundry of things like marbles and puzzles and games.
If those toys had suddenly disappeared or not been there, something would have been missing. It was just part of the experience. Like cookies in the cookie jar. Somehow it made the visit special.
It never occurred to me that there were other children that visited that same toy basket and drawer. It never occurred that those toys were special to my cousins or my grandparents other grandchildren or visitors. Somehow, they were part of me.
I know. They're just toys. But when you associate certain 'things' with people who mean so much to you, somehow they are no longer just toys.