Pretty in pink

There are times when I feel past my prime; when the devil tries to convince me that my days of making a contribution to the world are long gone. My children are grown, I'm retired from my "paying" job, and there are days I'm sure I'll never see my work in print again.

And then I look down--down at the faces of my precious grandchildren, at the pebbles beneath my feet, at the untold number of grains of sand on the beach, and in this case, at the flowing water in which another kind of beauty abounds--sometimes noticed, sometimes not. Nevertheless, it's there. Down there.

I spotted this pink beauty the other day while on a mission to photograph the wildflowers growing along the roadside here on base. Just as I was wrapping up my session, I happened to notice a spot of color in the water of Ship Creek, a stream that flows through the base, through Anchorage and out to the Cook Inlet. Floating on the current and caught against a rock in a small eddy was this lone blossom spending its last days of glory floating in the river.

It reminded me that it's never too late to bloom, that we're never too old to make a contribution, that paying jobs aren't always the most rewarding. Finally, perhaps the assignments we've been given by God can't be accomplished until we've accrued enough knowledge, wisdom, and patience to do the job correctly.

Maybe this flower bloomed unseen alongside hundreds of others and I would never have noticed it in the crowd. It's likely I'm the only human being to have witnessed its voyage down Ship Creek and it's possible that it was merely a coincidence that I spotted it at the exact moment it was trapped in the eddy.

But I don't think so. I think God used this one blossom, this little pink flower spending its last hours on its way to a watery grave, to show me that it's never too late. Never.

See you along the trail...

Searching...

Life in Alaska brings many surprises. Some are as magnificent as snowcapped mountain peaks, earthquakes, or erupting volcanoes. Others are as common as delicate wildflowers, the sight of a bald eagle high overhead as it loops in lazy circles on invisible wind currents, a mama moose and her babies out for a stroll and a little grass-grazing, or a pair of bull mooses duking it out along side the road.

And then there are the other surprises--the ones you always hope you'll run across, but secretly doubt will ever happen. At least that's the way my daughter, Darice, and I felt a few evenings ago when we drove up the Arctic Valley Road to hunt for a pair of sunglasses I thought I'd dropped earlier in the day while on a ride with a mutual friend, Lisa. I'd emptied my purse and searched Lisa's van twice before deciding I'd dropped them on the mountainside while taking photos. So we climbed into our Explorer and went in search of a $12.00 pair of sunglasses on a remote mountain road. (I'm nothing if not cheap. We probably spent that much in gas just looking for them.)

That's when things changed. While retracing our route up the steep, gravel mountain road, we rounded a curve and ran smack-dab into this black bear cub munching on dandelions alongside the road. We crept up on him slowly (in the car, of course--no getting eaten by irate mama bears for us!), but there was no need for sneaky maneuvers. He was oblivious to most anything but those delicious dandelions.

As we approached him, a pickup sped by us, spitting gravel and dust and no doubt cussing us out for having pulled over to the side of the road. We thought the bear would certainly have bolted, but when the dust settled, he was in the same spot. For the next forty-five minutes, Darice and I took pictures of this little guy as he devoured one after another of the gangly weeds. He looked up once in a while to stare at us, pose for photos, or scan the roadside for his next big bite. We talked to him (turns out he wasn't much of a conversationalist), marveled at his beauty, and thanked God for the opportunity to witness nature at its finest. We may never see him again (although you can bet your bottom dollar we'll look!) and have no idea whether he was orphaned or simply had a very laidback mama who was perhaps napping nearby. At any rate, she never showed up, but then we never got out of the car to bait her, either. No sense in pressing our luck.

Just when I think we've had the most fantastic of all possible experiences up here, God provides another, even more unbelievable one, for us. This was a perfect example of God using the tiniest, most inconsequential of circumstances to lead us to His gifts.

And no, I didn't find my sunglasses on that mountain road. Of course, I didn't give a hoot after having seen what God led us to in our efforts to regain them.

When we drove back into our driveway, Lisa walked over and handed my missing sunglasses to me. They'd been in her van, after all. Thank You, Heavenly Father, for blinding me to their presence so we could run across Your most precious present alongside the road during our search. It's amazing, isn't it, how searches so often end up leading us to Him?

See you along the trail...

Looking up....

Just when I think God has given us all the beauty and grandeur of winter He could possibly create, He comes up with yet another glorious wonder for us to enjoy.

This picture was taken near Portage Glacier in Alaska on a drive down Turnagain Arm this past weekend. The snow still lies deep upon the mountains in this part of the state (about an hour south of Anchorage). Etched against the clear blue sky, the peaks towered high overhead as I tried to capture each and every sight.

I spotted a shelf of snow and ice at the very top of this peak that juts over the edge in a delicate balancing act. Wind, sun, snow, ice, and cold temperatures have combined to form this incredibly beautiful, yet fragile display of God's love for us. Although the cool, clear air, bright sun, blue skies, towering mountain peaks, and blindingly white snow smoothed like icing over a large, lumpy cake, would surely have sufficed in the beauty department, God gave us one final flourish--sort of the curlicue atop a soft-serve ice cream cone--as yet another reminder that He loves us enough to keep on giving and givng and giving.

I keep reminding myself to look down along the trail to make sure I don't miss some of God's smallest gifts. Once in a while, though, I have to remember to look up.

See you along the trail....

Silent sentinels...

Seeing a bald eagle here in Alaska is nothing unusual (although I never thought I'd hear myself saying something like that). But they seem to thrive up here and watching them drift on the currents overhead is a pastime I will never tire of, nor take for granted. Even for Alaska, though, the sight of two of them on the same branch--standing guard from their lofty perch over the snow-covered land spread beneath them --is probably something I will never again see.

I was fortunate that they sat there long enough for me to situate myself (alongside a well-traveled road here on base) and take several shots of their silent vigil. More and more, I realize that although being on the lookout for wildlife is a big (and necessary) part of actually spotting it, vigilance and a keen eye aren't all that's required. Good fortune (as in "God sends opportunities my way on an incredibly regular basis") factors into the equation, as well.

Thank You, God, for knowing my heart and arranging opportunities for me to see You in action.

See you along the trail...

Wonders within wonders

Yesterday was one of those glorious winter days where the skies are blue, the temps are tolerable, and the sun is blinding. I took a walk on base at Cottonwood Park to take a few pictures of the beautiful landscape, then came home and discovered the real gem was right out the back door.

This icicle, caught mid-drip, is reflecting the beauty of the blue sky above it. I didn't see that when I took the shot--it was just a nice piece of ice melting into a pile of snow. But when I took a closer look, I noticed how beautifully even a shrinking icicle on its way to "puddledom" can reflect the beauty God gives us every single day.

Thanks to my brother, Alan, who gave me this fantastic camera, I'm able to take close-ups of the glory that exists all around us. Thanks to our Heavenly Father, I'm finding the delightful surprises hidden inside the beauty of His creation--wonders within wonders.

See you along the trail...

Glimmers

The bare trees, cloud-covered skies, and healthy icicle crop (not to mention huge mounds of snow and sub-freezing temps) attest that winter still has its icy grip on Anchorage, Alaska.

But not for long. Even when we're engulfed in suffocating clouds, a tiny glimmer from the sun is all it takes to show us that all is indeed well. Winter will pass, clouds will clear, storms will cease, temperatures will rise, trees and flowers and all other vegetation will bud and grow and flourish. Animals will come out of hiding (as will humans) and go about the business of building homes, starting and raising families, working, living, and dying.

Hopefully, somewhere in all that activity there will also be lots of praise and worship and gratefulness to our Heavenly Father for all He does for us during every season of our lives.

See you along the trail...

Coming attractions

I was in Florida visiting my dad and his wife. The days were beautiful--warm and breezy, the azure sky filled with unbelievable cloud formations. Everywhere I looked were signs of God's great masterpiece of Creation. Green grass, flowers of every color and description, towering palm trees, ancient oaks with ghostly Spanish moss dripping from their boughs, herons and other water birds, and the ever-present anticipation of a gator or two. (I never did see one, but maybe next time.) Just when I thought the day (and the reminders of His glory were winding down, I walked outside and spotted this sunset over the roof of a nearby house.

It seemed to say, "Not yet, Deb. Just because the sky turns black and the temperatures cool, even though the sun is hiding for the night and my Creation will soon be lit by only the light of the moon and stars--that doesn't mean the signs of my power and love are waning. I'm just displaying them in an even more magnificent way. Use this sunset as a preview of coming attractions."

Thank You, God, and good night.

See you along the trail....