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The Rain and the Desert

I was reading my daily devotions, the coffee of the heart to start my day.  In this particular devotion it comes from a wonderful book I picked up for a dollar at a booksale, not ever realizing how popular the book is through the decades.        The book is called “Streams in the Desert”.  My copyright is from 1925.    I read a poem within the daily especially for June 15, and I loved it. 

The verse that accompanys it is from Genesis 41:52

*The summer showers are falling.  The poet stands by the window watching them.  They are beating and buffeting the earth with their fierce downpour.  But the poet sees in his imaginings more than the showers which are falling before his eyes.  He sees myriads of lovely flowers which shall soon be breaking forth from the watered earth, filling it with matchless beauty and fragrance.  And so he sing:

 

* “It isn’t raining rain for me, it’s raining

                                        daffodills;                                                  

In every dimpling drop I see wild flowers upon the hills.

A cloud of gray engulfs the day, and overwhelms the town:

It isn’t raining rain for me: it’s raining roses down.”

 

I love the rain and I just recently spoke on my other blog of the flowers my mother could grow in her garden, they were beautiful, without the rain they wither and die, in our life we have rain and we become frustrated with it but out of the rain comes a refreshment and a new growth that hopefully will give new life.

Another paragraph is very poetic and poingnant as well

*”Testings are raining upon me which seem beyond my power to endure.  Disappointments are raining fast, to the utter defeat of all my chosen plans.  Bereavements are raining into my life which are making my shrinking heart quiver in it’s intensity of suffereing.  The rain of affliction is surely beating down upon my soul these days.”

Testing purifies the soul

rain draws beauty out of dirt.

 

 

*(Streams in the Desert

pub. by Oriental Missionary society 1945)

 

 

Tag your It

Tag you’re it!                    This is a break from the “norm”……..

  I was invited by my friend Melanie across the water  (UK)to play this game.. I could get soggy feet playing but fortunately it isn’t like the game I used to play as a child.

I am to name 6 of my  unimportant likes and tag some others as well as the person that tagged me.  Here I go….

http://crunchydomesticgoddess.com/

http://www.stephakaangel.blogspot.com/

http://www.4littlemen.blogspot.com/

http://www.abeachcottage.com

http://inthemoongarden.blogspot.com/

http://untilthejasperwalls.blogspot.com/

I hope you all enjoy the variety of different personalities and life.

 

I love books, I like reading them, collecting different types and subject matter for my book cases , there are many facets to my love of books………………………..and this was unimportant?!

I love green, before it was so ecologically cool….my entire home is green…there are a few other colors but the majority is green, it is amazing the soothing affect this gives.

I love my dog, Pepperanne….she is such a nice dog….and she is important

hmm that’s three…

I love the weather when it is in the 70’s…can’t stand the heat…I shouldn’t live here but I have for 30 years….go figure.

I love writing, I’m a novice at this but it is so cleansing , cathartic, and it drives my creativity in ways I cannot believe.

And definately not last I always love  baking, I wanted to be a Pastry Chef and made an attempt at applying at a very good school in New York, but some personal matters happened at the same time and I didn’t get to do this.  That didn’t stop me from baking for family friends and a few orders as well……which in turn my 7th is a love chocolate.  I know there was only 6 but hey, how could I possibly leave out chocolate.

 

Don’t forget to name unimportant things…6….tag the original person…that would be me….and name 6 others……now get ready …… you’re it!

 

 

The Door

I opened up the door and looked up the long flight of carpeted stairs, stairs I was familiar with when we would play, sliding down , feeling every bump, carpet or not on my backside. It was fun and we’d do it over and over again until my grandmother or some other adult would tell us to stop. Grabbing the handrail I made my way up the stairs and kept looking back hoping my grandmother would want to know what I was doing instead of sending me to my unfortunate demise. It was late, Lawrence Welk was over and it was time to close my eyes for the night. I knew sleeping on the scritchy sofa wasn’t always allowed and I guess it was time to meet my maker. I rounded the corner of the staircase and there it was, the reason I hated coming up here at night, the attic door, it scared the bejesus out of me, I always felt I should hold my breath, run and if I could have  closed my eyes, I would have. I ran into my Aunt’s old bedroom and got in the too big bed for me. Of course first, I had to check the closet, which always held a few things leftover from her departure. My favorite the chenille bathrobe. I checked under the bed and have always wondered what would I have done if something would have been staring back but fortunately it never did. I pulled the covers back and made my way in and wishing all the while my grandmother would let me stay downstairs. I heard her coming up the stairs to check on me for the night, tuck me in and tell me good night. Since the day was full of running, climbing trees, picking berries, and playing I was out before I had a chance to think about all the nasties that could be behind that attic door. The next thing I knew I smelled toast and brewing coffee. I threw the covers back and made my way back down the same way I came up, with a flourish of a get me outta here feeling. My grandma was making breakfast for my grandpa, the conversation was of the fields and what lay ahead in each of their days. The new day had begun and the attic door was forgotten or at least until the next time. There was too many things to do on a farm and it was my oyster, if I would have known what that was it would have been.  Finishing my breakfast I dressed and made my way out another door into a world of activity just waiting for me.

 

 

TOOSDA-Tuesday

It’s Tuesday, let’s say it together Toosda……..it’s a funny word, like it is supposed to be twice the day, one more than the rest.  On top and better than Monday, Monday is hated not looked forward to and the only time anyone can say they like it is at the end of the day.  No Tuesday is not quite Wednesday, the humpday of the week, but it holds it own because it is a path on it’s way to Friday.  Tuesday is hoped for and not hated, yes I can see it is twice the day more than Monday.  But what it doesn’t have is a song and Monday does.  Of course the old saying goes if you don’t have anything nice to say…….and that would mean  a song as well. Don’t you think so? 

I am well on my way today and right next to Wednesday, but  let’s get the streamers and confetti ready because Friday will be  rubbing elbows with Thursday and soon there will be a party going down and all this because we cursed Monday and right now am friends with Tuesday.  Whoo hoo!

 

*****Barbara******