Rain makes Flowers Grow

     The past few days have been squelching hot. Yesterday, the temperatures kept going up and up, till we hit nearly 105 degrees. I felt bad for all those poor kids out on the fields playing sports.

     Plus we're in a drought. Over the past few months everything keeps getting browner. The lawns getting a tan, flowers shriveling to nothing, the land slowly but surely dying of thirst.

     But then it happens. Rain hits, dripping out of the dark clouds above like an invading army. Everyone is forced to look up, and is faced with a jolting question. What is this wet stuff? This stuff that makes the air hotter and more humid than ever? This stuff that brings flash floods, and that makes our roads too slippery to drive on? This stuff that causes fatal accidents to appear on our freeways, makes the traffic so bad I can't get to work?

     I see the rain, the trouble it causes. And I think to myself, what a tremendous blessing for this day. A watering on this parched land, a washing of our dirty city air.

      But why is it so easy to thank God for the rain that waters the ground, and not for the trials that sanctify us? The storms can hurt. But in the end, they're a blessing from above. No pun intended. They teach us, grow us, and make us more like Christ. The rain can shatter the routines of life, but they generally cause flowers to grow. Keeping that in mind when all we can see is wetness and gray is the hard part.

The Flower

The ground is hard, made of desert floor.

No rain has passed by this way before,

A seed is dropped, but it won’t sprout.

No plants can grow in such a drought.

The sky grows dark, the clouds form black,

A storm is building; preparing to attack.

The rain grows heavy, leaning towards the ground,

The lightning cracks, and the thunder sounds.

The wind whips across the land,

Through dried plants, and through hard sand.

The crack of lightning, the boom of thunder,

The dessert floor is torn asunder.

The rain pelts the earth with force,

It penetrates with no remorse.

The rain pours out till morning break,

Then waits so still, for life to wake.

Eroded, beaten, stripped and bruised,

The dessert floor awakes anew.

Though the land lay desolate from the storm

A small seed sprouts and takes new form.

It grows with rapid and wondrous speed,

The small flower blooms faster than any weed.

Its glossy peddles unfurl as its shape takes form,

A radiant beauty flows from the flower adorned.

Though the storm was fierce and destructive,

For a one small seed it was productive.

It sprouted, it grew, it blossomed, it bloomed,

A rusty dry dessert, by a storm was groomed.

God's Colors

      The coast is a beautiful place. So many people live here. So many people visit here. It's a hot spot for vacation and tourists. And I have the blessing of living fifteen minutes from the beach. Walking  distance. It'd be a very long walk, yes. But it's not impossible.

     I hate to say it, but I've only gone into the ocean twice this whole year. Tonight is my second time. The waves lap at the shore, seeming to struggle against it. The air is cold, and I'm having doubts about going in. I mean really. It's going to be dark any minute, and I'm thinking I'll probably freeze to death. I slosh through the water till I'm ankle deep, waiting for the stinging cold to prick my nerves. But it doesn't. The water is warm. I've never felt the water this warm before, for as long as I can remember. I almost want to laugh. This is going to be fun.

     My friends and I swim for about fifteen or twenty minutes. But the current is getting super strong, pulling us toward the pier. I dig my heels deep into the sand. But I just keep sliding forward. We finally agree it's time to get out. Back at the fire pit we roast marshmallows. I keep turning to look out over the ocean, toward the setting sun. I keep thinking the sun will penetrate the thick dark mass of grey, shattering the gloominess with color. I brought my camera and I'm ready. But it doesn't. The clouds are too thick. It suddenly hits me that we won't be experiencing one of those glorious beach sunsets. I try not to be discouraged.

     I sit, camera in hand, watching the waves lap the shore, watching as is gets darker and darker.

     So what, there won't be a pink and red sky today, but as I watch ocean I'm stuck by it's beauty. The little bit of light cutting through the thick dark clouds reflects against the water's surface. And so do the lights from the pier. And I'm filled with thankfulness. Struck by a thought, I wonder how we so often thank God for sight but forget to thank him for the things we can see. Like colors. Here, in the lack of such radiance, I'm thankful that I know what I'm missing. I know some people who are color blind. How often am I thankful for the opportunity to see colors, am I thankful that God created colors?

     God is good, and despite the fact that his creation is tainted by a curse, he still makes it beautiful, for His pleasure and ours. I pray that I will always be struck by the beauty of His creation, even when it's not what I'm hoping for.

Looking Heavenward

     My life is so wonderful, filled with so many opportunities, so many options. And, what so many people in the world are hurting for, the freedom to do them.
     I look around me, and as I stand on a bridge leading to adulthood, I see so many opportunities that I could choose to pursue, that thinking of them all at once scares me to death. But it's not just opportunities in abundance. My life is overflowing with stuff in general. I'm a girl who lives in a two story house. I have my own room; a car to drive; a closet stuffed with clothes; a fancy camera; a cute dog; a bookshelf full of books; my own computer. And the list just goes on and on and on. There are so many things that could fill my day, from music, to art, to pinterest, to that waiting TV show, and the next chapter of that novel I'm reading. Living in this culture, I automatically find myself sucked into a fruitless cycle of filling my head with worthless song lyrics, pointless books and movies, a search for that cute top and skirt, only because it's the trend, it's all the rage, it's what's in style. And suddenly it's all I think about, all I talk about.

     I once read a quote that said: "Where your mind wanders to is where your heart truly is."

     I want to think I read my bible everyday, that I pray for an hour in the morning. I'd like to think that God comes first in every part of my life, that He fills my waking thoughts in the morning, and stays on the forefront of my mind all day long. That His love is what my mind wanders to when I'm thinking of nothing in particular. But if I keep telling myself that, I'd be lying.
     This culture bombards me on all sides with it's glamour, it's glitter, with it's intoxicating charm. And every day I fall for it.  I can't help but want my appearance to be smashing, want to know the lyrics to that song everyone's singing, to read that book everyone talks about, to see that TV show everyone quotes. The pull is unbeatable.
     But then, when I'm most engrossed in the charm of the world, the words of scripture hit me like a hammer. "All is vanity." All the things of this world, all the allurement, all the glitter, all the rage. It's all vanity. It's passing away, it's fading. Like a flower blooms, then fades, so the charms of this world glitter for a moment then are gone, leaving emptiness, fruitlessness, and pointlessness in it's destructive wake. And all the hours, all the days, all the years that we danced in it's glories are then gone to waste. And I'm forced to ask myself: Is is worth it? Is that momentary high worth it? If I really force myself to think about it, the answer would be no.
     When I asked Christ into my heart, I was giving my life up to him. When I fill my hours with vain and fruitless enjoyment, I'm not serving him, but my own flesh. I'm focusing on my own desires and pleasures, and not looking heavenward. I'm not considering eternity. I'm not seeking the Lord's glory.
     I'm not saying I need to loose my spark, that a little bit of glitter and light in life is bad. I'm not saying I need to be dull and drab. I'm saying, what I do I need to do for God's glory. Not for my friends, not for myself. I need to look at what God wants from my life and base my behavior, my words, my pursuits on what would bring Him glory. God has blessed me with wonderful things, and it isn't wrong to enjoy them. I just need to be careful that they don't become my main focus. I need to be careful not to be swept away by the world's vanities, but to be looking Heavenward.

Seeing, not just Looking

     I love the Zoo. We used to go all the time when I was younger. But that was years ago. I've wanted to get passes again for a long time, and now we finally have. For the first time in years, we get to go regularly.
     But here's the downside with the Zoo. You can only go so many times before you've seen everything. You can take a billion pictures of the animals every time you go. The same animals. They don't change. And you'll get the benefit of dirty glass and fences inevitably obstructing the view. Lets just say, if I want a good picture of this animal, I'll have better luck taking a stroll through the Internet than the Zoo. And I won't have a billion bad pictures of the same animals clobbering up my hard drive.
     All this to say, here I am, at the Zoo, with my camera limp on my shoulder. I have no urge to take pictures whatsoever. I see nothing I want to capture. My shoulders are slumped, my motivation is zero. My imagination, that normally I have to try not to drown in, has decided to take a vacation and leave me to wallow in lazy boredom. And yes, I'm am very sad to admit that I am at the Zoo and bored, with a rebel T3i dangling at my side.
     My dear mother, on the other hand, has her camera up, and is taking pictures of everything she sees. I try not to be irritated with her overly excited picture taking. Am I jealous? Probably. But I won't admit that. I'll just tell myself it's useless to take pictures at the Zoo. I say I wouldn't be able to take any really good pictures that I wouldn't be able to find on the internet. I mean, why waste the space on my card.

Wow, my lack of creativity and motivation is disgusting. And I call myself a photographer. I'm a lazy loser is what I am.

This is pathetic.

Well . . . thankfully I have a mother who never ceases to be photo happy. She notices my lack of picture snapping, and quickly says we should have a contest. A creativity contest. We would take the most creative pictures we could, choose our best ten, then have someone judge. I was all for it.
     Snap, snap, snap. Mom has an advantage, cause her camera can zoom. I have an advantage, cause my camera is . . . well, let just say that, it wouldn't be too fair to compare our pictures in quality. Now that I have a reason to pick my camera up from swinging uselessly on my shoulder, I'm feeling a little more motivated. My creativity and imagination start waking up. The gears are turning. My eyes shooting here and there, noticing things. Color, lighting, and little things like flowers and the way the suns makes its petals glow. I don't take too many pictures, maybe cause I'm picky, or maybe cause I'm just not in the mood. I can't get that spark of photography motivation to come back all at once. But in the end, I leave the Zoo with a few pictures on my card.
     The Zoo trip was fun, and I got good practice with lighting and noticing the little things. Not just the obvious: the giant elephant. Anyway, I left with more experience and some good memories. I am especially grateful for the experience of dealing with boredom. I don't ever get bored; I don't let myself. But sometimes it can sneak up on me. I'm realizing that. It's easy to just look around when I'm bored, and not really see anything. That's why I love photography, it forces me to see, to look with a purpose. And when I do that, when I look and see and notice, then I can appreciate God's creation more fully. I'm so grateful to have that opportunity.

Forgotten Blessings

     This morning I wake up.

     I see the mess in my room, my dog is barking loudly. I smell the dirty trash truck billowing down the street. I stand up. My limbs are sore today, and my hair is knotted. I want to mope, whine; groan. But a thought strikes me, a thought so simple yet so overwhelming.

     I woke up.

     I have eyes that see, ears that hear, a nose that smells.

     I can stand, walk, move. I have hair on my head.

     God has so blessed me, and I so often forget it. His generous blessings surround me. Not just His common grace in my everyday life, but His infinite love and mercy as He looks on Christ's perfect life and satisfactory death, instead of my imperfections. Though I'm sinful and wretched, God sees a clean slate, a perfect record. He sees Christ in my stead.

     I am completely unworthy; so blessed.

A Spider

I don't mind looking at bugs and admiring God's handy work, but spiders gross me out. Well, at least the big ones do.

     This morning mom tells me there is a spider in the garden. I know right away that if she's talking about it, it has got to be big. But big is an understatement. I'm not too far across the lawn and I can already see it. And wow, what a beautiful spider—as long as it stays where it is, right where I can see it, and a good distance away. Its about as big as my big toe. About as big as my thumb.
     "You should take some pictures of it, Laura," mom says. Oh boy. I don't want to get close too that thing, but I guess it would be good photography practice. I take my time getting my camera together. I'm not in a huge hurry to get more acquainted with that grossly large Arachnid. But here I am, squatting down next to this gigantic spider, clicking my camera away in his face. He doesn't seem bothered by it, but I'm hoping with every part of me that he doesn't dash away into the bushes, that he doesn't move at all. I'm sure I'll scream if he does. Besides, I want him to stay where I can see him; spiders are just so much scarier when you can't. Before long, I find my self climbing in to the bushes behind him, getting shots of his underside. He's got another bug grossly wrapped up in his grasp, but he isn't doing anything with it. And I'm fine as long as he doesn't do anything with it.
     I'm satisfied with the pictures I got, and head back toward the house. I show some to my mom, and change my lens. I'm walking back out to garden, more comfortable and confident than the first time I came out to take pictures. I take a couple snaps, adjust the camera for the lens and continuously moving sun. I squat down to get another shot. I look through my lens; I start  focusing. But the moment that large beast comes into focus, I see his short front legs ripping at the grossly wrapped up bug, and his little head all twisting and clawing at it. I stand and turn away. My stomach is trying to take a journey up to my mouth, and my limbs are all crawling and prickling at me. I'm done. I can't take anymore pictures of that spider. I walk to the house, grossed out and cringing from what I just saw. I put my camera away, and just simply say, "I'm done. No more."
     I got close to that spider, closer then was comfortable. But I did it. And just seeing the detail in the pattern—the design, the colors—I was truly amazed by God's creation. God is the Creator, Maker, and Sustainer of all things. It's easy to forget the significance of those simple truths. The simple truth that creation cries out to the glory of its Maker. Our very bodies proclaiming a perfect design and Designer, while our minds leak with resentment and denial. But we are His creation, we are His handy work, and all things will work for His purpose and for His glory, even in the midst of sin and decay.

“Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
Job 12:7-10