Thank You

This is a post-Thanksgiving poem to remind us that it is always appropriate to be thankful. Today I’m thankful that it is snowing and I don’t have to drive to work.

Thank you God for everything
For mountains high, for rivers that sing
For oceans wide with endless sky
For mammals, fish and birds that sing and cry.

Thank you God for family
For grand kids, sweet, where joy runs free
For each child and married spouse
For foods to eat and a cool warm house.

For a wife that cares and honors me
For time to enjoy our family
For vacations amid the cares of life
For trials to share in toil and strife.

Thank you God for thy pure Son
Who gave his all for everyone
Who lived and died that we might see
How we can grow both pure and free.

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The Bear Lake Monster

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I know that we said we’d post a poem every Monday, but. Today I’m going to vary from that and tell a story that accompanies my newest painting entitled “The Bear Lake Monster”. My grand kids have repeatedly asked me about the Bear Lake Monster because I grew up there and spent much time at the beach. When I tell them that I’ve never seen it, they press me for my opinion about it’s appearance. Well, let’s put the question to rest:

The last rays of the sun had just disappeared from the rolling mountains that form the border on the east side of Bear Lake. It was a refreshingly cool summer evening, the first night at the Lakeside Lodge. Everyone had come to a family get-together: Grandma & Grandpa & their 3 children and spouses & 6 grand kids. The day was mostly spent unpacking and exploring the cabin and surrounding lake property. There had even been an excursion to North Beach with sun, waves and lots of sand (much of which made it’s way back to the cabin.) The littlest ones were now being bathed to remove it from their feet. Grandma was cleaning up the dishes and food in the kitchen. Others had gathered in the family room with immense windows facing the lake. As evening drew near, the blinds were lowered, creating a cozy den that now hosted much conversation, frivolity, and silliness.

Two small ones, still awaiting their bath time, had escaped to the yard and were trampling about on the wooden pier, feeling like conquerors of the lake and all surrounding area. In the stillness of the lake, one pointed out the large ripple passing by a short distance out.

Without warning, and silently, except for the sudden splash of waves, the ripple rose from the lake in all it’s immensity, revealing, in it’s wake a huge, fin-backed, blue-purple-silver shimmering monster, who had stopped in it’s powerful swim, planted all four legs in the lake, and with purpose and intent, turned it’s head to stare directly at the two children, now frozen on the end of the pier. For a moment, the beast was motionless and although it’s eyes were yellow, large, and piercing, the stare was not threatening, just a quiet, curious glance at the two figures. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it submerged itself and continued swimming northward, it’s sturdy fin slowly disappearing in the distance.

The two were wordless for just a few seconds, and then explosively hurled themselves into the cabin to relate the tale to the family, who were oblivious of all outside events, and skeptically patronizing to the tale now told with great animation and wide eyes.

And so, the legend of the Bear Lake Monster lived, at least in the hearts of the two.

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A Place of Endless Miracles

Busy, busy, busy. Life can be that way. There are so many things competing for our attention. It’s not enough to just try to choose what we think is good for us. There are too many things that are ‘good for us’. Days and weeks and months and years and decades can pass by, filled with a never-ending list of things we feel we need to do. I’m reminded of a painting done by Norman Rockwell. Pictured is a large cathedral placed on a busy street in a large city. The pastor is placing a theme/challenge to the congregation “Lift Up Thine Eyes”. But there are many people walking by the church, all of whom have their eyes down toward the ground. Busy, busy, busy. No one looks up to see the beautiful white doves flying skyward. I believe the painting is entitled “Look Up”. So, we too, are often to busy to pause and appreciate the wonderful gifts of God all around us. That’s what this poem is all about.

A place of endless miracles is here for all to see.
It’s found before life’s problems, and calls to you and me.
It lifts us on the wings of praise, beyond all earthly woe.
The key is simple: Gratitude within each humble soul.

In this world of man’s making, where pollution’s pride reigns king,
Where successes sirens call us to selfishness and greed,
Where lust reigns in vanity and sin steals our soul,
Help us be in, not of, that world where God’s truth doesn’t grow.

Help us each day to see God’s beauty that flows through each new dawn,
Unto eve, when stars appear as night comes rolling on.
The moon reflects the Son’s light over land, sky and sea.
Thank the lord for miracles. Please set our spirits free.

Only Grace is able to lift us up above.
Man’s inhumanity distracts us from God’s love.
Help us to truly see with eyes, ears, heart and mind.
Dear Lord, Show us Thy living miracles, so we will not be blind.

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Bottom’s Up

Ok, I didn’t forget to post, I was just to darn dirty and tired from a Uinta campout to do it. But I got some great pictures to post later on, but for now, I’m going to return to material from our Grand Teton trip.

Swans float upon the water with grace and with ease they fly,
But feeding turns them bottom’s up, before each watcher’s eye!

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Chip and Dale

Ok, this is part 2 of our Teton National Park visit. These 2 young marmots peeked out at us late one afternoon while we were out looking for grizzly bears. We slowly drove down the Pilgrim Creek Road, where a cinnamon-colored grizzly had been spotted over the last couple of days. We came to the conclusion that one can spend hours of time searching for something (like a bear) and bypass a delight that is right before your eyes. Thank you, little marmots, for making our drive down Pilgrim Creek a rewarding delight.

Two young marmots peek out from holes within a fallen, mossy tree.
These rascals we’ll call Chip and Dale, peer out most carefully,
Then curiously, the two young pups began to venture out,
And soon they were in full view, and began to move about.
These two plump rascals filled our hearts with joys beyond compare.
These cute wood chuck memories will linger innocent and fair.

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Blacky

We just returned from a 5-day trip to Teton National Park in Wyoming. There is so much beauty there. We often were amazed at ‘our cup running over’! The mountains were, as usual, stunning. The wildlife was especially entertaining. I have so much to talk about: blue birds, ravens, buffalo, moose, sunsets, sunrises, camera lenses, beavers, rain, baby elk, crowds gathered to see bear. So, I’ll just start with one thing this week. Raven. We were setting up a sandwich picnic in Yellowstone, when a very large raven hopped within 5 feet of our picnic table, and just stood there, waiting. I quietly spoke to it, inviting it to stay for awhile, hoping I would have the time to snap off a few photos. It posed for many shots, and then was pleased to be tossed a few sandwich crumbs, and quickly learned that it needed to be perched on a nearby log in order to receive bits of crust. Bob has always been super-fascinated with ravens. We have tried to photograph many, but found them to be spooky and fly away too quickly, or, because of their ‘blackness’ the exposure has been tricky, and usually not impressive, except for this time. What a delightful lunch guest!

Blacky came to charm his way into our very souls.
His raven ways won our hearts, as he obtained his goals.
He jumped upon a pine root perch, not 6 feet from us.
We tossed him bread and other treats and we gained Blacky’s trust.
He cried “Don’t go!”, in raven calls, as we drove away.
We won’t forget the miracle God shared with us that day.

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Little Bird

Last week my grandson and I noticed a bird’s nest in a tree just next to their backyard deck.  Upon closer inspection, we could see the head of a bird at the top of the nest.  Then, to our delight, a large Robin swooped down to the nest, and 3 babies stretched up their large yellow beaks in anticipation of a food delivery.  They weren’t disappointed, and neither were we.  The whole family eventually joined in our vigil as we speculated as to when those babies would take wing.  The next day, the nest was empty.  Vacated.

My grand kids also grow so fast.  Time just keeps on ticking.  Decades can fly by almost unnoticed.  The reality of mortality is usually sobering to me, especially now that I’m on the ‘short end of the stick’.  I wrote this poem for Bob just after we were married, and 30 seemed old!

 

A fledgling little bird uneasily flaps his wings.

A newborn baby bunny is clumsy when he springs.

But time with all Her patience

Cures all their newborn ills,

Yet still the creatures learn to grow

By stumbling and spills.

And so it is with you, my dear,

You work and play from year to year.

And isn’t it so nice to know

You have eternity to grow?

And with each birthday you can look

And see the road and climbs you took.

The older that you grow to be,

The easier the top to see!

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Pelican Ballet

This last weekend we ventured out to Willard Bay with our tent trailer. Before we were joined by grand kids; before it got noisy and hectic, we took a drive out on the Bear River Bird Refuge. In my opinion, the pelicans stole the show. They are so immense, and so brilliantly white. It was especially thrilling to see a group of about 4 take flight from a still pond surrounded by willows. They were so graceful! And, once they open up their large wings, it is surprising to see the black contrast feathers. Their flight is quiet and flowing, like a ballet.

We took our leave of cars and speed,
Out upon the bay,
As the night was closing in
And pushing out the day.
There came a flow of pelicans
With such a gentle sway.
My soul sang out, my eyes were filled
In their gentle array.
As they drifted above the earth,
From dusk to dark that day.
Then I praised God for love on wings
In so many ways.
And joy and peace did come to me
As I watched the fading symphony
Join the end of day.

One Day

Last week we took one of those spur-of-the-moment road trips. We left the Salt Lake Valley headed south to Utah’s Dixie (St. George, Utah). It was a real treat to leave the snow behind and see palm trees. We were absolutely enchanted by the variety and intensity of the beautiful scenery: the red rock formations, the immensity of Zion’s canyon, the delicate pinnacles of Bryce Canyon topped with new snow. As we stopped to accumulate the hundreds of photos we took, Bob quoted this poem to many fellow-travelers. It was written many years ago and dedicated to “life and the beauty of life found in one day.” The picture that follows was taken just north of St.George, showing the variety of the landscape.

There is so much beauty in one day,
If man can open up his eyes,
To look at God’s great canvas,
From a flower, to the skies,
From the delicate color
In a butterfly’s wings,
To the majestic blues and grays
On the mountain side.
For here lies God’s creation,
My testimony, and eternal progression
To those who follow love.

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