Breathtaking leaves, radiant in their splendor a week ago, resulted in a forlorn blanket of mottled tans on our property this past week. On one blustery day, half blew from their delicate positions of grandeur, in one poof, to a bed of decay below ~ for dogs to trample in their search for a secret place to snoop. It was almost too much to bear!

Simple oak, maple, and ash castaways, once so vibrant, resemble those difficult moments when circumstances turn into ashes before our eyes; when trials at work or at home cause us to flinch; when people inflict unnecessary pain, sometimes unknowingly; while we're trying to do our best with our responsibilities and forge ahead to accomplishing our dreams. Sometimes we give up.

Raking our yard with my hubby, while gathering blisters on my hands, I remembered a retired missionary say, "They come and they go. You get what you get and don't throw a fit." Simple but wise. I think she was talking about people. 

Reflecting can be beneficial . . . or maybe foolish, if it has no further purpose than to continue in a funk. Regardless, we just need to go on.
Picturing the incredible spring festival of Cherry Blossoms we have here in our nation's capital, followed by show after show of majestic floral masterpieces ~ hovering underneath the neglected winter soil, waiting for their time to enthrall. God allows everything for a reason. More leaves will come this spring. 

"For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

My husband and I spent a long, holiday weekend over  in the Shenandoah Valley, VA in October for five glorious days—coincidentally, his birthday. Enjoying exquisite fall colors at their peak, my artistic nature kicked into high gear for a visual delight. I wasn’t disappointed!

We arrived early on Thursday morning for his golf tournament . . . long before we could check into our hotel. Instead of working on my current manuscript from our car, I asked if he could drop me off in the hotel lobby after breakfast. Music played softly, with
 a beautiful fireplace providing a warm atmosphere, surrounded by comfy leather chairs beckoning me to just think. Fresh coffee in hand,
I found a quiet corner table and enthusiastically wrote until lunch. 
 
With a room still unavailable, I checked out the adjoining restaurant. Friendly staff greeted me before finding a cozy booth to make-my-home for the afternoon.  “Real food, natural, cooked fresh in our kitchen; never flown in or premade elsewhere,” read the menu marketing. Then she walked up, a delightful young server eager to make my extended stay enjoyable. We chatted about basics to begin. Emily came back from time to time, taking my order, refilling water, making me feel special and comfortable, bringing the delicious entre she’d suggested—which tasted better than she described—and just to chat about life in between. She had questions about my stuff spread over the table. I sked questions about her life. There we connected; a writer trying to make good use of some extra time, intending to make headway in her latest novel and a server, busy doing her job to the best of her ability, in a humble position serving others. 
 
Over those potentially boring hours, I discovered an honest, down-to-earth soul longing to fulfill her destiny on earth and perhaps make an impact—intertwining lives with a maturing grandma overwhelmed with inspiring the world through her writing. I didn’t want to leave that table; didn’t want to end what turned into a very special conversation; didn’t want to say goodbye, possibly forever, to a new friend who had captured a place in my heart. 

Settling into our room, I added hundreds of interesting words until ordering room service for dinner. My brain wouldn’t allow the extrovert in me to eat alone. I wished she could be back chatting with me once more. This authentic home-grown female deeply impacted my day. 
 
“It’s for you and others like you, I continue to blog about things that have already happened in my life. Maybe it’s boring; maybe it will encourage; maybe it will inspire, or perhaps teach something I learned the hard way—so you don’t have to. Most of all, I want to stay in touch. This one’s for you, Emily. I miss you."

37 years ago, in front of God and 400 guests, my husband and I made sacred vows. It was a glorious ceremony. After signing the marriage license, my father—who married us—looked up and said, “Different from what most believe, the hard part 
has just begun. Every day, for the rest of your life, give each other a reason to stay married to you.”

That was the best wedding gift we received!

So we both endeavored to heed his wise advice; sometimes searching our hearts for extra insight, determination, and perseverance. The result has been a satisfying and refreshing relationship long after the  honeymoon ended. Occasionally we are still asked, “Are you guys newlyweds?”

To which we reply, “What makes you think that?” Guess it's pretty obvious.
 
This doesn’t imply we have no miscommunication or problems. On the contrary! Even with difficult moments our focus can be adjusted . . . and I've done that a bunch. When I look over at Doug early in the morning, watch him from across a room, or even if I'm seething inside working up courage to apologize, I see the  wonderful guy I chose to be my life partner and am overwhelmed with joy. He  couldn’t be more perfect for me.  Every single day I’m thrilled when he walks into our home ~ and I don’t  even have to wait for him to take me into his arms!