Rain or shine

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.
Lord Byron

(after the rain / Julie Cook / 2015)

It’s a brand new day to a brand new week. . .
Good things and bad things are lining up. . .
Each are headed your way.
Dread and joy join hands. . .
Red rover, red rover, it’s time to come on over. . .
As they each call out. . .your name. . .
Do you go or do you stay?

As the sun rises, raising spirits, possibilities seem endless.
New beginnings are set in motion.
Green lights and straightaways stretch outward beyond our sights. . .
Yet just past the horizon, well past our concern, storm clouds are gathering.

Bumps in the road
Deep ruts
and endless potholes make the journey less then desirable.
The joy dissipates as we fight to keep it all in the middle.
The rains add insult to the injury in the consistent pursuit.
The winds pick up, whipping our hopes and our dreams, into a panicked frenzy.

White knuckled, two handed driving,
as the wipers strain to keep up, fighting the deluge.
Swerving and skidding along. . .barley in control on the wet highways,
while the lightening steaks across the skies, punctuated by deafening thunder.

Nerves now frayed. . .
wondering why we ever got out of bed. . .
someone whispers. . .is this all there is. . .
And just when it seems all is for nought. . .
when we’re ready to throw our hands up and raise the white flag, shouting
“OK LIFE, YOU WIN. . .”

God sends a reminder. . .

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
(Lamentations 3:22-23)

A clover patch and God’s Blessings

May the blessing of God’s soft rain be on you,
Falling gently on your head, refreshing your soul
With the sweetness of little flowers newly blooming.
May the strength of the winds of Heaven bless you,
Carrying the rain to wash your spirit clean
Sparkling after in the sunlight.
May the blessing of God’s earth be on you,
And as you walk the roads,
May you always have a kind word
for those you meet.

During the late 1800’s the dreaded potato famine, which was akin to the 1930’s dust bowl in magnitude of hunger and devastation to a people, saw the immigration of thousands of Irish to the United States. My great-grand parents were a part of that mass exodus (not necessarily Sylvia Kay’s but we won’t digress).

Upon arrival in the US, be it the Irish, the Italian, the Germans, the Russians, the Scandinavians, etc…all brought with them their culture’s customs, their faith, their foods— or rather melded all of the old world’s to now the new world’s. Creating the amalgamation so many of us today call our family’s traditions and heritage. Making us, this generation of today’s American, who and what we are.

As I look out over our yard, only to hear my husband’s frustration in the reoccurring clover invading his hard cultivated grass, I think of the honey bees and the clover honey that is so much a part of the South. I think of my childhood and the clover flower necklaces and head pieces we use to make on those warm summer evenings, I think of the endless summer hours spent combing the clover patch in search of that oh so elusive 4 leaf clover, which can often be found now pressed in an old bible or Nancy Drew book from my younger days….

And I can’t help but think of the Irish–not that clover has anything to do with a shamrock, but there’s that mythical and often mystical amalgamation of cultures—what kid hasn’t connected the tireless 4 leaf clover search and then spotting that awe inspiring rainbow, after a rain, with Ireland, luck, and Leprechauns?

So as I surveyed this latest patch of clover, my thoughts turned oddly to families past and families present, as well as to God and His blessings, which are to be found even in clover patches. May God richly bless you this day….