Diamonds for Death

Widow Lila Sparrow moved into a large nest on the edge of a tree branch overlooking a meadow. She had barely moved into the nest when a gale approached from the north.

The other birds, who had nests further back in the strand of trees worried about her. “Come stay with us,” they invited, “until the wind calms down.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. I’ve always had ugly little nests before. I’ve always wanted a fine home to show everyone how smart and beautiful I am. This is the best nest in this little forest and everyone wants it. If I fly out to stay with you, someone will rush in and steal my new home.” So Lila stayed in her nest even as gale-force winds thrashed the tree limbs and striped the few remaining leaves off the winter-stricken tree. Deep in the forest, the other birds visited with one another and sang cheerfully through the strong wind—but Lila was too afraid to sing.

After the gale blew itself out, the birds came to Lila and invited her to the flying games in the forest. “It’s an aerial obstacle course,” they explained, “and the winner is the bird who completes it in the least amount of time. After the games, we will hold a treasure hunt in the woods. The winner will be the one who finds and collects the largest number of dried-up blackberries. Then we will have a picnic together.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. This is the best nest in this little forest and everyone wants it. If I leave it—someone will steal it. Go away and leave me alone.”

A deep cold from the Arctic dropped down into the forest. The temperature plunged to below zero and ice blanketed everything. The birds came to Lila. “It will be the coldest it has ever been here in our little forest tonight,” they told her, “and you have the biggest nest. Let us come and stay with you in your nest. If we huddle together, we will stay warm enough to survive the cold. But if we face the cold alone—we will die.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. Go away and leave me alone.” She pointed a wing at the meadow. “You know I have a meadow full of diamonds and a path of rubies. You do not want to keep me warm—you want to steal my diamonds and rubies.”

“No, Lila,” Grandpa Sparrow said. “Don’t you realize that those sparkling jewels in your meadow are not diamonds? They are ice crystals because it is so cold. And those rubies are drops of blood from a young boy who fell and cut his arm on the ice. Please let us stay with you tonight. Or, come stay with us. We don’t have much room, but we will squeeze tightly together. We must stay together and work together to survive the deep cold tonight.”

But Lila stuck her beak into the air and said, “No, no! Go away and leave me alone. I will not let anyone steal my diamonds and rubies.”

The other birds in the little forest huddled together in their nests and warmed the night air around them. In the morning, they went to check on Lila. Her nest was empty.

She lay cold and stiff below the tree amid her field of sparkling diamonds—diamonds which melted and vanished beneath the morning sun.

“But seek the kingdom of God and all these things shall be added to you…a treasure in the heavens that does not fail.” Luke 12:33

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The Fragile Tracery of Trees

I hate winter. I hate cold.

Two things I enjoy about winter; the dance and swirl of falling leaves as they get one more chance at life before they descend into a forever rest, and the fragile tracery of trees—made visible by vanishing leaves.

I gaze in wonder at the twisted limbs—different shapes, different breadths—each one unique, having been given the individual attention that the Creator of the universe bestows on all His creations. The fragile tracery of trees tell a story. They remind me of people.

Some have faced such buffeting from the wind and over-burdening from rain and snow that they have been severely thrust down—but instead of accepting defeat or dropping off the tree—they have slowly twisted and turned and reached for the sky again. Some have been shouldered aside by stronger, faster growing trees in their path—so they have turned away and established their own path to the sun.

Some have lost pieces. Yet they still grow.

Sometimes as I gaze in wonder at the fragile tracery of trees, I match them to folks I know—or have known. I especially think of those who are battling severe storms in their lives and continuing to grow…and I pray for them. Sometimes as I gaze in wonder at the fragile tracery of trees, I match them to things I’ve faced in my life—and I thank Jesus for bringing me out on the other side…with my face to the sun.

Life on this earth is as fleeting as the autumn dance of leaves. Therefore, the Bible says in 2 Timothy 2:3, we must endure hardship as good solders of Jesus Christ and turn our faces to the sun. We have an example: the fragile tracery of trees.

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Little Things

Because I was born in Texas, I grew up with the axiom that everything in Texas is bigger. I believed it.

At that time, Texas was the largest state in the U.S. When President Eisenhower signed a proclamation admitting Alaska to the U.S. in 1959, replacing Texas as the biggest state—I actually cried. I fiercely told family and friends that when all the ice melted in Alaska, Texas would be the biggest state again. And I believed that too.

Some things that are bigger are better—like the bigger slice of chocolate cake and the bigger chocolate candy bar. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate bigger pullovers and T-shirts. Or perhaps I need them? And I’ve always preferred bigger dogs.

But sometimes it’s the little things that make us smile. Here in Scotland with unending grey skies and the colors of summer falling like the constant mist and rain and bleeding away into memories—it was a small thing that made me smile. One purple clover bloom in a vast green sea of grass.

I hate cold. I hate getting cold. I hate winter. Snow holds no appeal to me no matter how much ugly and blight it paints out of sight with virgin whiteness. Snow is cold. I hate cold.

So even with cold stealing over the land like a furry nighttime thief, the one purple bloom made me smile.

Isn’t it marvelous that a great and Mighty God like ours—a God who stretched out the vastness of space, created the weightiness of Earth and the planets and made Texas…took time to make little things as well. Tiny insects, sugar gliders, finger monkeys, pygmy possums, hummingbirds, starfish, seahorses, hedgehogs, hummingbirds, chameleons, turtles—and a host of other things that would take days to list. And fragile, colorful flowers. Even a small purple bloom.

“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:3)

And what is a little purple bloom that coaxes smiles on a wet and rainy day?

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Bye Butterflies Bye

sunflowers and butterfly laredo december

The butterflies are gone.

The bees are gone.

The sun is gone.

Heat is gone.

The land languishes

Waiting for the ambush

Of cold and snow

And the melting

That will send spring again.

This is the time of year I feel morose. I hate winter. I hate cold. Snow has no appeal for me. This is the time of year I embrace suffering rather than hope; find negativity more natural than optimism.

I have no right to feel that way. God made both summer and winter and had reasons for creating both. Some people love winter and cold and tramping around in the snow, or hooking up with skis and winter sports equipment. And some folks hate summer and hot temperatures as much as I hate winter.

blog coidence

I haven’t found a cure for my winter dread, but reading Ecclesiastes helps. King Solomon was the richest, wisest man in the world. He wrote, To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted.

Winter is a time of plucking up. A time of dying. Butterflies are gone. Bees are gone. Sadness would stay, except I’ve read the next book in the Bible, Song of Solomon. The winter is past. The rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

Spring will come again.

The Bible promises: While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, winter and summer, and day and night shall not cease. Genesis 8:22.

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It Has Happened

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It has happened. Trees shivering their leaves off limbs and me shivering right along with them in empathy, sympathy—or just because I’m cold.

I hate cold. I hate being cold. I hate winter. I have always hated winter. There are very few things in this life I hate: fire ants, scorpions inside the house, winter, being cold.

All three of my winter memories are bad. When I was eleven, I took three cute brown and white puppies home without asking my parents first. I expected my parents to see the puppies, fall in love with them, and agree we could keep them. They didn’t. I had to take the puppies back, walking several miles through snow in canvas shoes with holes in them and wearing no gloves. I suffered severe frostbite on my toes and fingers. To this day my fingers quit working when it drops under 75F, and since it is nearly always cold here in Scotland, I spend part of my working day at the computer sitting on my hands to warm them up.

My second winter memory is worse; cutting, stacking, and carrying ice-crusted logs into the house for the fireplace—without gloves. Our family was too poor to buy gloves. Have I mentioned about my hands? Pain as severe as slowly freezing human limbs is hard to describe—and even harder to forget.

The third winter memory is taking Luke to cut a live Christmas tree when he was four. He had the necessary outfit: snow boots, snowsuit, coat, and gloves. Being a single mom supporting her child—I did not. This was deeper and colder snow—if that’s possible, and we were in it for a long time while Luke searched diligently for the perfect Christmas tree. Me—wearing canvas shoes and blue jeans—by the time Luke found his tree I would have gladly settled for a tin can and a twig.

The good thing about being a writer is that it’s okay to stay inside working—until life intrudes and forces you outside. Then it’s still winter, I’m still cold, I still hate the winter.

Psalm 74:17 says of God, “You have set all the borders of the earth; You have made summer and winter.”

Since God made winter, He has a purpose for it. That means my job is to be happy for those who enjoy the winter and follow the advice in 1 Thessalonians 5:18, “In everything give thanks.”

So I am thankful. I am thankful that winter ends.

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Things I Love, Things I Hate

I hate cold, I hate winter, I hate snow – I hate Santa. That sounds more like an opening line for “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” than my usual upbeat, positive blog, yet all these statements are true.

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I hate snow because it’s cold and I hate cold and being cold. Probably dates back to childhood, surviving in sub-standard houses, some of which had no heat. Then cutting and gathering firewood in the ice and snow with no gloves or warm outer garments. As for Santa, he gets bashed because if you teach children Santa brings them gifts and then they learn it’s not true, will they believe in God?

Thanks to all of you who read my blogs. I love and am thankful for each one of you. And I’ll forget about stacking icy firewood with raw bleeding hands and take a positive turn. I’ve just released a new mystery-romance-suspense book, “I’m the Grasshopper.” Releasing a new book always raises my cheerful volume, even in the cold, cold winter.

Newspaper staff writer Stacy Estes has never forgotten the fate of her childhood pet – a grasshopper – when it encountered a spider. Her failed romances make her view herself as the grasshopper and men as spiders. She. Is. Done. With. Romance.

Stacy is a runner and hider. Until she trips over a body at her grandmother’s house and goes from reporting the news to being the news. Stacy fights to keep her secrets intact, including her physical disability, especially from the first love of her life who has moved back to the community. Lost treasure? Gold mining in Texas? Flying saucers on her grandmother’s hill? And what about the men who go into the Comanche Cliff store – but never come out again? Mysteries entangle and endanger Stacy. When a local poacher is jailed for murder, Stay’s life unravels.

Her investigation into the murder victim on her grandmother’s property takes her to the strange world of boanthropy, where people believe they are cows. It sends her into a confrontation with satanic worshiper “Snake.” And she is slated for the next sacrifice.

“I’m the Grasshopper” is a great Christmas read, clean enough that the kids or Grandma can pick it up and read it, yet packed with excitement, adventure, mystery and love. Stacy has a physical disability, but does that make her a “cripple,” as a heartless co-worker labels her?

To give credit where it belongs, the Bible promises in Romans 8:28 that “All things work together for good to those who love the Lord.” Being in extreme pain and on crutches for months gave me the idea for the story and characters. God is always faithful to His word. I’ve since had successful spinal surgery, so it will be a very Merry Christmas for me.

To all of you reading this blog, have a Very Merry Christmas and a Deeply Blessed New Year. Thanks for being there! God bless.

Grasshopper cover #2

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Why Winter?

Here on the Black Isle of Scotland, everyone is rejoicing now that the sun is staying visible longer and snowdrops are pushing timid white heads up to look around while royal purple crocuses snap to attention along the sides of narrow lanes. Winter is fleeing, following the freezing breath of snow and ice into last year’s memories.

Some people hate winter. I’ve always hated winter. I hate being cold. I used to mix cement and build with rocks in 100-plus degree temps in south Texas. Ironic that I should now live in Scotland where it rarely makes it to 70 degrees even in the “summer.”

Winter brings cold temperatures that kill people, animals and plants; traffic-snarling storms; massive banks of snow that must be moved, and increased heating costs. So, why winter?

Psalm 74:17 says that “God made summer and winter.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.”

Winter provides a Sabbath for the land. Most people get at least one day a week off work to rest. Rested employees are less likely to have accidents or get sick. Manufacturing equipment that shuts down for at least one day a week is less prone to malfunctions. Jesus said that people were not made for keeping the Sabbath to please God, but rather, that the Sabbath was made for the benefit of people to give them rest.

I had a lovely rough collie named Scot in the southern U.S. Scot visited nursing homes. He made friends with everyone and everything he met including deer, a wild rabbit, a feral cat, a baby bird, a turtle, a possum, cats in the neighborhood. He was so friendly that even small animals were unafraid of him. Scot got protothecosis; there is no treatment, no cure, and it is 100 percent fatal. Dogs in Scotland don’t get protothecosis. It’s too cold for the cannibalistic algae. Nor are there mosquitoes, fire ants, venomous spiders or a plethora of other aggravating and dangerous insects. This is a winter land. Winter provides surcease.

Tulips must be kept cold to burst into energetic flames of spring color. Peach trees need numbered winter days of extreme cold to ensure a plentiful summer harvest.

Like God’s creation of nature, our personal lives cycle through seasons, from joy to despair, from busyness and fullness to emptiness and boredom. Why winter? Sometimes it takes a cold, barren winter wilderness experience to turn our hearts fully to God. To make us appreciate the benefits He daily loads into our lives. If every step of our path through life was lined with fabulously blooming flowers, we would quickly turn aside to grass.

Before we lament the winter wilderness experiences in our lives, we should read about history’s first recorded Christians in Acts 5:40-41. “They called for the apostles and beat them…and the apostles departed, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for Jesus’ name.”

These early Christians rejoiced in winters – trusting that earthly hardships were short and nothing to be compared to the eternal blessings of Jesus.

We should enjoy spring and let the winter go – but when it comes around again – we should embrace it like an old friend who is walking us into the kingdom of God.