Poetic Beauty

Tuesday I saved a little girl's life. Yesterday I sun bathed in the beckoning sun while no one attended the beach, and today I was saved from being impaled by a strong and stationary (or so I thought) lifeguarding chair while illustrating. This week, and especially these past few days have been pretty incredible. Quiet, simple, and restful.  To say the least, Pennsylvania has been getting the best of me. Now that's something I never thought I'd say before I went to college in the big apple, and something I think about more often than not now that I'm home for summer break. Keep Pennsylvania Beautiful. Those signs all over the high ways and disheveled twisty roads? Yeah, they make their mark. Pennsylvania truly is beautiful. I can stare at the wispy clouds for hours, and I usually do since I lifeguard on the open waterfront of the beach in my community that's full of caring and quiet retired folk and families who arrive on the weekends to catch the sun's rays, watching their children squeal in the cool and earthy lake. The only litter I find is a sand filled cap of a Corona light or a cigarette butt (possibly some dinosaurs, the plastic kind)-two things I don't necessarily enjoy but it's better than piles of McDonald's trash and old items I can't recognize smelling of smog, death and pooled in a murky puddle. I can sing in the quiet as the notes lilt upon the breeze and make their home in the ever-growing pine trees. Pine needles. Fresh breaths of air that are quickly captured by the radiating sun that shines on the birds chirping high above the trees. A black bear eating my neighbor's suet feeder and trying to pole vault with the feeder's stand. Sand castles arrayed upon the soft ground as two children cackle and throw a squishy blue ball across the beach, creating a game they don't even know the rules for. Splashing into a lake that is full of freshwater and free of oil and harmful chemicals. Health. Diving, spinning, sinking, stroking, breathing. Swimming is my safe haven. The one activity where I glide effortlessly across an open body of water without feeling any pain in my body other than my lungs gasping for air momentarily. My life has felt like a poem lately, so I want to reciprocate that to you. To let you know that there is more than any struggle you are facing. Stop what your doing, take a moment, look around you, and see the endless beauty in this world that was created in six days. These things we take for granted have been spoken into utter existence in a sentence.  Appreciate these moments. There will never be a moment like it again.  No matter what the scenery is- city lights, country fields, raging storms- there is always a beautiful sky that you can get lost in, letting it engulf you and remind you of the endless beauty there is in the stillness.
Dream.
Delight.
Rest.
Hope.
Enjoy.
Breathe.
Laugh.
Pray.
Be.

My hope for you is that you can take the time to notice the little things that make up this great big world and create an even bigger and brighter difference than if you hadn't noticed them at all. That there is life, and beyond your greatest moment, there is an even greater life.

Dogs, Trust, and Grace

Lately I've been dog sitting. This is the fifth day out of seven, and it can get a little messy. Two pooches- a black lab/Australian shepherd mix, and some kind of terrier. It starts with a W, and that's all I've got. Let's just have a little dog discussion quickly if you aren't already aware of these two breeds. They are polar opposites. Labs lick people, have high speed energy, wake up early, are man handled into cages, eat all of the food, jump on people, jump in lakes repeatedly, fetch, and never.get.tired. Terriers sleep late, enjoy smells, lay next to you and apparently like macbooks, enjoy quiet, and eat slowly. Terriers are like me. Labs are not like me. Terriers and labs cofunction as instigators who aspire to make me yell.  Tucker and Nia. They're lovely when you sit down and write a blog post, like now, but they're full of exuberant energy and think I'm an impenetrable human chew toy whenever I first wake them up in the morning, stand up, throw a ball, or eat my own cookie.

 They firmly belief in the movie Yours, Mine, and Ours, yet in the sense of a two year old's perspective, so "mine." I feed them, and then I go to eat and they think it's time to eat again. I call it a cookie when they want a treat, yet open my package of cookies when I want a treat, and they think it's automatically for them. They make me think of what it will be like to have kids one day. And I become completely terrified. And maybe that's a good thing since they bite. Not, kids, dogs. Actually that's debatable. 

 A blessing is a burden. The downside of them is that they can't communicate with me, however, the plus side is that I can tell them what to do. So I am the dog trainer, communicator, food service representative, and authoritative green bean (I'm skinny.) They also can't read my blogposts, which is another blessing. For as smart as people say dogs are, you would think that they could read. Maybe they can. They can't speak to us in English, so I guess we would never know.

 Nia, the eldest and the terrier with the most well-behaved temperament is a cuddle bug.  He behaves, that is, until Tucker, the massive pup starts jumping and gnawing on my hands, and thinks I'm playing when I scold him or try to push him off. When that happens, Nia joins in, except he's short, so he jumps up and latches on to me, so I feel like I'm being bitten. 

All of these complaints I'm making on the negative aspects of dog sitting are good representations of distractions of this world. They make us angry, festering on little things. But when we stop, when we fix our eyes on the beauty and inspiration all around us, on the quiet, candescent moments, we begin to realize how much God is holding the world in his hands. He never falters, he never fails, he doesn't bite. He doesn't try to take your cookie. He loves you, he cuddles with you, and restores you with a peace that passes all understanding. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Delight with him in all your ways and he will make your paths straight."

I promise you that there are good things about these dogs. Tucker shows his affection by licking your face eagerly, the only time it gets bad is if you just so happen to be singing a song when he does this, and then his head wacks your tooth. He also has the agility and speed to chase a ball in my neighbors giant back yard, and it reminds me of joy. Him and Nia sit on command. Usually it's with a "cookie," but at least they sit. Nia folds himself gently under your legs when you're only the couch. He gets warm and so do I. Free heater. Tucker wakes up at 6:30am with a few barks, the perfect reminder when I forgot to set my alarm clock the first day. 

 It's kind of crazy how God gives us relentless grace in the midst of our complaints and anger. And through that, we're reminded of what it is to truly trust him. The dogs are trusting me, so I can trust an even bigger God who puts up with my mistakes and gives me the responsibility of doing just that but with grace. Lord, give me more grace for these pups.

This is Rigby, another puppy of my life not aforementioned