Monday, February 4, 2013

Out of Winter ~ Monday Musings

Over breakfast on Saturday, Mother and I solve the problems of the world, then wash and put away the dishes.

It’s a brilliant 67-degrees outdoors, a day made for something special. Daddy asks to be wheeled to the porch so he can sit a spell. Just a few months ago, before he took a tumble from the roof and messed up everybody’s holidays, he would have been a busy bee on a day such as this, wandering around the property, raking pine needles from yesterday’s winds. Today, he can only sit and observe.

I guess this could be called one of Daddy’s “winter” season. No matter our age, we all have them, those seasons that drain us of life, leaving us barren and oftentimes broken. I’ve had winter seasons during summer’s fury, when the stifling heat couldn’t stop the cold that seeped into my bones. But despite winter’s harsh reality, there are lessons that can be learned. Patience. Humility. The value of stillness and solitude.

After I get Daddy situated on the porch, I go inside and grab the newspaper and return to tackle my favorite section—the puzzle page. 

Living a slower pace has its definite advantages. I hate to brag, but I’ve become quite the whiz at unscrambling the Jumble words. Generally, in less than a minute, I’ve got them all solved, but CURPSE is giving me a fit today. I hem and haw and fidget with the letters and, suddenly, a light flips on and the answer comes to me: SPRUCE. Satisfied, I set the paper down and inhale the moment—me and my dad, side-by-side on the front porch.

Across the lawn, shadows are at play. Daddy and I talk of the little rabbit that used to dart in and out of a certain bush. I ask if he still appears on occasion.

Daddy doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, last time I drove up in the drive I saw him hopping toward the house.”

Silence hangs lightly between us. Daddy’s recollection of driving lays against my heart and aches a little. I breathe a prayer that he will drive again, will walk again, will roam the property here and do all of the things he loves so much again. Lord, I believe.

I pick up the newspaper and unscramble the rest of the words, then notice Daddy’s head tilted up. He is staring at something across the road.

“Look at that little bird at the top of that tree over there,” he says, pointing. “You see him? He’s hopping from limb to limb.”

It takes me a minute, but eventually I spot a tiny creature, moving with lightning speed, skipping among the barren branches. In the stillness, I hear a chirp and then another.

“It won’t be long,” Daddy says, “before all these trees will be budding out.”

It’s barely February, but already the music of spring is in the air, that magical time of year when nothing becomes something, when anything is possible.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1).



  1. I cherish all the quiet, still moments I can find. Wonderful post. Thank you for sharing.

  2. Praying that your Daddy will be back to his usual routine soon.

  3. Lovely way to spend the day. I guess it would get hard after a while, but sitting in that glorious weather tackling the puzzle page with my daddy beside me sounds glorious.

  4. I know you treasure these times with your Dad. I enjoyed the photos in the previous post, too! Enjoy your week, my friend! God bless you and your travels.

  5. Awwwww, Dayle. That was a lovely post. Thanks for sharing. Susan

  6. Thank you for letting us come in, even for a little while, this evening. While the rest of us (well, me anyway) go about our "fast-forward" lives, your messages never fail to make me pause, and just breathe.
    Continued prayers for your daddy's healing!

  7. Dayle, I follow Susan's blog and saw that you left a comment, so I ventured over here. We share some things in common-we both live in Texas and my husband is from Mississippi. I just began blogging and I am loving it. I have an English degree, and enjoy writing, so here I am this evening sending you a lengthy message!

  8. Anything is possible. I pray that your father will find it to be so.

  9. You write so beautifully. I hope your father will be fully recovered.

  10. I am looking forward to the post that shows you and your Dad walking across that beautiful lawn again!! I heard an amazing message recently and during that word from the Lord... The minister said that "Faith and Patience" are twin brothers !!!! What an awesome statement... I believe you and your family are living that out right now in this season!!! Blessings to you, Terri

  11. I believe your Dad will fully recover!
    Like you said, it's a season. Something wonderful will come out of this. Even if you don't see it now, it will come. Just like your Dad will enjoy his home again.
    I believe!

  12. Glad your dad is able to sit outside and enjoy the warmth. Spring and sunshine sounds so good.

  13. My favorite part is the mosaic at the end showing your dad how you still see him and he still sees himself. I'm believing right along with you that in time he'll be hopping from limb to limb too. (Don't worry... I mean figuratively of course.)

  14. I appreciate your comment on my post about the need for a little beauty in our lives. I remember taking care of Mama towards the end, and then after she passed away, how I found comfort at home arranging some flowers, cooking a meal myself even though people had given us plenty of food...these little ordinary things seemed to soothe me.


Dear Readers, I adore your company and your comments. If you ask questions here, I respond to them here, so please check back when you have a chance. Kind regards, Dayle