Happy Monday people. The hotter and drier the air gets, the busier work gets. The more Milo cut, the busier I get. It is a solid, radical difference from where I was a year ago at this time. Life surprises me more often than not and yet, I do not know why I am so surprised when it does, lol. Like the fog that rolled in Saturday morning.
I was totally not expecting it. The sun was shining and the light was beautiful! I thought to myself, “I wish I had a real camera (or at least the time) to capture the soft tan colors of the stark still prairie stalks in that sunlight!” It was simply beautiful. The kind of light we try to reproduce with filters and photo adjustments. God-created, God-imagined life-giving light. The kind that draws us into its presence and makes us long for it once it has taken its leave.
But I digress… The fog that came grew thick and soupy within moments. It was so gloppy that if it were not fog great chunks would fall from the sky. I could not see a quarter mile down the road. Normally, I can see at least two miles, at the least. As it was, I could only make out the trees of my dear friend’s yard about an eighth mile away. From beautiful light to thick, cold, damp dark fog. Mark that #10 on my list of things that make me really happy: the point of my post today.
Speaking of which, here it is:
10. Beautiful light.
Cool light, soft light, the warm light of sunset.
(I do not care for abrasive light, however, such as fluorescent bulbs put off…gag… I have to sit under it how many hours a day at work…Eventually I turn off the ones over my head because it is so harsh and intrusive.)
9. Heavy, dreary, hanging fog.
Well, dreary weather of any kind really.
I just love dreary days. I could live in England or Great Britain or the Netherlands or Switzerland or Ireland.
Anywhere it is damp and dreary at least five days of the week.
Yes, I know I am weird.
8. The smell of grain and semi trucks and dirt.
It reminds me of when I was little and would ride in the truck with my Papa or my Dad.
Getting up early. Climbing up the huge, grated metal steps into the semi. The memory is so old that I can only faintly remember the smell of my Papa’s old quilt I snuggled under in the sleeper.
There was this little black and white TV he could plug in and it would sometimes pick up stations as we passed by so I could watch “tv”. I wonder where that thing went. As a child, it fascinated me. As an adult, I would love to know what it was exactly and how it worked.
7. The sound of grain hitting the grate and falling through to the drag as it is whisked away to the bin.
Again, memories of riding in the truck when I was little. I was always told to stay in the cab, but I wanted to watch what was going on so sometimes Dad or Papa (whoever I was riding with) would let me stand beside them as they emptied the trailer. The crank they used to open and close the traps seemed so big and heavy and they, like strong, proud men.
6. The quiet of dawn or dusk.
There is something in the silence of the day before it begins or just as it ends that I love.
It is a time I spend clearing my mind or contemplating the wonders before my eyes.
It contrasts so completely to the hustle and bustle of the day that I revel in it every time I have the chance.
5. Taking time to enjoy the simple things.
The smell of a plant, a flower, or rain! Oh, I love the smell of rain.
The beautiful sights God has provided me through nature, such as the sunset, green leaves, Autumn colors.
The smell of snow.
I love winter. Not quite as much as Autumn, but I must admit it. I do.
I love the crisp smells, the tart air, the bleakness, the short days and long nights.
I love to stand outside in the dark when the snow is gently, steadily falling. I love the sound of it.
I love how where I live it seems so desolate, as if I were the only person left on the planet.
I even enjoy the cold.
I love how it reminds me that there are great forces around me that I cannot see. How it reminds me of God.
I love the sound it makes as it forces its way through and around the tree branches or the electrical lines overhead; it’s so…almost shrill sounding in a way, but not overwhelming or harsh like a scream.
I looovvvveee how it makes the trees dance and sway as if they were able to move from the place where they were planted.
2. Singing amazing hymns.
How Great Thou Art
Sacrifice of Praise
In Thy Pavilion
Behold! He knocks
If That’s the Joy
My Jesus Has Broad Shoulders
Days of Elijah
Great is Thy Faithfulness
The Old Rugged Cross
I Need Thee Ev’ry Hour
Come Thou Found of Every Blessing
In The Garden
Trust and Obey
There is Power in the Blood
Just to name a few. I love to sing. I love music in general. Moving music. Concertos. Classical. Hymns.
Anything that I can feeeeel the beat in or the writer’s emotions. Except country. I am not really fond of country. The older style of country is okay, but I’m not into this newer stuff lol.
1. Helping those in need.
Especially those who are really struggling. And I love it all the more if they do not know me because then they know I am not doing it for myself.
(If that makes sense? I don’t want the people I help to think I am doing it for my own glory rather than as an honest attempt to help them and I think if it is done anonymously that it leaves the right feelings in them…that it was for them, because of them that I offered help, rather than myself.)
For example, I love to give the homeless on the streets something, especially if they are not expecting it. My husband does not appreciate this quality in me so much, but that does not discourage me from trying. I have a heart for the suffering and struggling. I want to ease their woes and anxieties in any way I can. It saddens me so much to see the despair in the eyes of these souls. It deeply moves me.
It feels wonderful to do my part for them, even if it is little. To see their eyes brighten or the corners of their mouths perk up a little into a half smile is such a blessing.
I hope each of you has a blessed Monday!