Soul Carving

     We'd had a rough morning. I was regretting our decision of the previous evening to allow the two oldest children to stay up late watching a holiday movie. Our hopes of getting to church on time were deteriorating fast in the face of mounting hysteria. Welcome, welcome, Sabbath morning.      Miraculously, my patience remained intact. Everyone else went ahead while I stayed with the straggler. But even though we were running late, I had to dodge back inside for the camera when I saw what the Winter Fairies had been up to during the night. A wonderland of breathtakingly intricate beauty lay spread out before us.  Remember the heavenly love-note I found at the park? Here's another one! Amazing how something so icy cold can warm your heart.           Whether it's the uncommonly cold winter temperatures that are sweeping the nation, or a personal gloomy chill that's se...

WHITE by Bethany Campbell White is new and clean.  A fresh canvas,  still and hopeful,  awaiting the brushstrokes  of memory and inspiration  to provide color and meaning. White is the color of anticipation,  of whispered plans and secret surprises. Imagination suspended in time; gradually shifting, taking shape  beneath a shimmering blanket of dreams.  White is empty, motionless, quiet. The culmination of preparation and labor not completed yet,  but forming steadily, silently, diligently. White is open, boundless,  eternal. Brimming with possibilities, with endless potential. White is calm.  White is content. White is a promise, awaiting fulfillment. But white is fleeting, enveloping the world for only a brief moment.  White is a sign, a flag, Not of surrender, but of peace.  The herald of new life,...

. . . here it comes!           First snowfall of the season.      Chilly days make for warm memories. 

"Autumn.  The excitement of it beat in her blood. Every morning she woke with a new confidence and buoyancy she could not explain. In October, any wonderful, unexpected thing might be possible."  Elizabeth George Speare  from, The Witch of Blackbird Pond     You remember that overpowering tingling sensation you had as a child while you stirred restlessly under the covers on Christmas Eve? Or that mixture of excitement and anxiety bubbling inside as you laid out your clothes in preparation for the first day of school? That's the feeling I get when I smell the first hint of Autumn on the breeze.      Every season has its redeeming qualities, I suppose. Winter, when it's not too menacing offers an opportunity of rest for all living, growing things. Yet, when the dreary days drag on, limp and gray, as if the sun can only manage to open one eyelid, I sometimes wonder why we don't spend the season in hibernation as many other creatures choo...