Tag: Dew

Takeaways from a Cloud forest

I tried to pray out loud but there were no words, just clouds, walking loud into my eyes, like Tears of Heaven 

Yes I love mountains, hills: but this trip was clouds. From where we were at Tipu Sultan’s Sunrise Point,

Dawn was faster than our fingers could capture…
We’d slept in late. The suite was a surprise, unlisted in Bookings; 22 hours at Nandi hills, nestling in rain clouds. Feeling blest was a miracle all by itself.
All God’s creatures. Thanks Vi for this one, wish you were in it though. The monkas made us run. Lil terrors grabbed my bag twice (monkeys)
Wild nameless beauties

Sunset, innerdialects.

City lights

For one who is scared of heights, maybe I’m cured? 4600 ft felt good

In the stillness, you hear His Still small voice.
Pitch black night; blanked by cloud.
Moth wouldn’t move much. Was either pregnant or lazy.😲 And we are all Co- habitants of the same planet.

Vi & I sat staring into dawn after everyone else bundled back to bed. “Its not raining- like the forecast …?”

She replied, “Ma, will it feel like rain inside a cloud?”

A Gandhi man, in metal paint, green bowl. Foothills, Nandidurg.
Takeaways from a Cloud forest.

Stay warm, safe, blest! Pray.

FMF writers.

Designer

This one day after months of gazing thru a dark glass at Life? …this one day began a series of clear eyed adventure among new things not seen before. New things you make. Creative! You say. Half sigh, but I love what happens when we’re not looking. Love how when we least expect it we are surprised by fantastic twig going beserk in the sun, drugged by morning dew and trail of breeze in it. Am I feeling Easter already? Maybe! Sunrise colors at dusk, is a surprise I’m telling you. Away from the city, the sun is closer, liquid. And I’m reminded there’s a design to everything, nothing is random.

Wreathe from dried creeper ‘neath old forest trees few miles away.

A field of marigold, green against buttered yellow petals in rows and rows and the air a pungent smack of earth, nothings random here. We stop, park and stare. Photography cannot capture sun rays sweeping the sky with giant brooms of Light. Not like we’ve not seen Light this way before? What, we’ve changed? As a race, are we staring more at nature? Are we returning to how we used to feel about fields and skies racing us as we travel? Is knowledge more sharp edged, less cheap? Why does Beauty hurt the eye, with its dare? As if here there is no other design except to shine.

Friday five minute writers : prompt : Design

Flavour of the month

GoDogGoCafè

If you zoom in, you’ll see those Lotus low left in tiny pond at Cubbon Park here in Bangalore city. India. Warm warm day, 28 degrees already!– lunch and ice cream in the shade. Too much fun to take pictures, but we got a few.

2 weeks ago, Haven fellowship @ Cubbon Park.

March always feels like sunshine warming herself up from cold waves and February mist/rain.

March’s flower- Daffodils, (in India its called Nargis), oh what beauties these are too, ‘Heralds of Spring’! As we get a new sunset, my heart fills with new colors. It’s like we must determine our flavour. What tones would you choose, what Flower/ (flavour) would you be?

Not a question I’ve thought of before,

NetPic.
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but today…..a young person at our Haven fellowship; all he could talk about was the Love of God, and how on earth did God love like that? He asked.

The more I listened to him, the more it struck me how different he was from the rest of us with issues at finance, or health! This guy, (I’ll call him Len) got eyes like liquid stars when he talked of the Love of God that drew him in. He spoke a few soft sentences and it went round and round that one thing: the Love of God.

Unrelated pic? But another of God’s touches of Love: little Chikku adopted by my cousins Shirl&Dan. At their table.

After we went each into our lives, post service, there’s that gentle fragrance, of the touch of God. Like Light and Rain that falls on the good, the bad, the ugly. Nothing changes the way It falls in at us.

As this new month arrives, I’m feeling all blessed- up grateful for the flavors life brings in. Unsure of my own flavour, but I’d love to sample more of the Aroma of Christ:

how He is Manna and Dew in our days, how His Love has no limits, limitations. How It overwhelms all other love, need, want, showing me a pathway of peace and one that does not misunderstand my place in it all.

Tokens of His care, for ‘the littlest of these...’
(Thankyou ShirlDan; hope your infant squirrel Chikku won’t mind breach of privacy?)
….

As I wrap this, a lone bright star twinkles through branches of trees outside. Another month approaches, I love the way a new month feels, especially this one. Fragrances of Lent, of a Father Heart with room for us all.

It is almost too good to believe, the whole story of ‘Easter‘, the Cross, Gethesemane, the Passion of Christ for us each. We tend to lean on our own needs and their fulfillment, more than what is,

or perhaps tend to misunderstand why this or that happened in our lives. Why there is war, or crime, illness, loneliness, why something is the way it shouldn’t be.

My sister’s Gulmohar tree with shoeflower, last month at David’s Pasture.

And then there are people like Len, all still in wonder at the Love of God.

I’m basking in those four words, THE LOVE OF GOD. Maybe it’s fragrance is best expressed in Joy? And I’m lending myself this, for the next 30 days. Maybe that’s the truth of Lent. That we take for free, not just as a Lending, the absolute Joy that comes from knowing how deeply we are loved by the One that made us, each, so intricately complex, every cell and thought process. How magnificent the aspect of each human, far more than lilies of the field, or all the blossoms in every tree, ever. I find myself staring at humans. Irises. Brows. Fingers. Smiles.

Our daughter Vi
..

Laughter. The fantasticity of Births. Deliveries. Pain. Relief. Grace. Healing.

The way my friend Maya looks when she’s happy. Uncle J’s stillness. Light in the Gulmohar tree, and Dina’s voice when she prays. The hush of waiting…..

Even a mother may forget her child, but I will not forget you..” quote, Bible. Pic – Sis Shirley and furry babe Chikku.

it’s all too much beauty stacked in one life, and I’m bursting grateful for the opportunity to see it all. Not just the shiny bits but the grey of dawn as I wrap this.

Gratitude: it’s the flavour I want to be, for it delivers one to Joy.

I couldn’t have dreamt that up all by myself.

Related Posts:

idialects@gmail.com, updated in Contacts. Apologies, this Blog is taking a while to update. There’s some mail still going to my old blog address. And I don’t understand how 2 or 3 of my Blog friends are unable to see any email from here. If that’s you, please do let me know. Thanks! 🌻

RN.