Happy Father's Day

Yesterday was a glorious day. Brothers and sisters came from all around bringing kids and grandkids for an afternoon of family and food.

Dad is doing pretty good. His last scan showed the tumors growing and his doc is putting him back on IV chem starting this week. This is an unexpectedly bad turn from my perspective. I thought he was healing, going into remission, and that his cancer would continue to go away until it was all gone. Some of it is all gone. And his liver function is good. Am I foolish to believe that healing can happen?

Dad is so positive about how well he's doing. But then, he doesn't talk about pain or side effects of the oral chemo he's taking or the cancer or his outcome except he's making long term plans to travel this winter, go hunting in Montana, do a little fishing as the mood grabs him, and talking about the amazing harvest that is just weeks away.

I'm blessed to be here in Paradise just down the road from my Dad. I'm enjoying this opportunity to reconnect, build and rebuild, and simply hug him every day.

zillions of cherries

My world has been changing these last couple months. The trees that fill my universe have gone from cold, empty sticks, to trees covered with leaves. Then one day, the orchards were alive with blossoms and the humming of bees working, gathering, pollinating, and making cherry tree honey. The hum echoed into my brain and played there in a loop of calming sound.




As the blossoms fell off, little green rocks started growing and soon the trees were covered in baby cherries. The magic that makes this happen is built into an ancient memory of tree and soil and branch and one day--baby cherries.


When I take my walks in the morning, I see a yellow transparency being replaced by the blush of summer. Pink will soon turn to red, then as the heat of days continues, each cherry will become a beautiful mahogany color--deep, dark red with the rich sweetness that comes near harvest. The perfect cherry is a bit crunchy and yet fills your mouth with juice and joy. I do not wish that moment to be here too soon. I feel sort of a breathless "waiting for the circus to arrive in town" anticipation which makes the first perfect cherry even sweeter, more appreciated, a moment to be savored.

As I wander around here in paradise, nature is moving at her own relentless pace. Rains come and the trees drink. Sun shines and the cherries grow, change color, and ripen. Night then day then night. Sometimes in my plan making, when I worry about some disaster or imagined disaster, when I lie in bed at night and can't sleep because of the possibilities in my future, or my perceived lack of possibilities; I think of the example nature grants me every day. Each tree continuing to grow life sustaining fruit because that is its mission. Therein lies its joy. I get caught up in the thick of thin things and forget sometimes that I'm just here temporarily. That I had a mission before I got here to this world, and it will continue when I leave. I worry and sorrow and fret and forget. Silly me.

The Lord has given me paradise to immerse my heart and soul in. He's given me the example of the cherry tree, fulfilling its mission because that is the right thing for it to do. He's given me the love and care of family, the joy of children, the fellowship of good friends, and the blessing of pleasant work.

My heart has been heavy of late with concerns over children and parents and my health and the daily details of life. But when I stop and sit under (or in) a cherry tree, I remember that I'm not the one that's really in charge. Heavenly Father is. If I can be still, hear His counsel, heed it and act, then I feel the peace of His abiding love seep into my soul, take away my fear, and lead me where I need to go.

Very simple, really. Not necessarily easy, but very simple.

2 inches in 2 hours

The rain danced on the road in front of my house this week. At one point in time, the wind was blowing the rain sideways. The storm was complete with lightening and thunder.

It was awesome.