Hello June and tender mercies . . .

 

 Welcome to the singing  month . . . with roses rambling over picket fence and stone wall . . . climbing up the walls of our old brick shed and falling all over arch of the trellis which invites you into our back garden.


 


Their sweet perfume, a gentle caress . . . my world is laced with shell pinks, and yellows and rose reds and ivory whites   . . .



Puppies run through fields of buttercups and return with muzzles glowing with gold  . . . 




While girls string chains of wild daisies, draping them about their necks and crowning their sun warmed heads with sweet simplicity . . .  he loves me, he loves me not . . .




And the sky sings too  . . .  a song of blue  . . . with whispy white clouds adding tender notes here and tender notes there  . . .




Bees buzz  . . .  and pea vines climb towards the sky . . . tender leaves arch and dance amidst the marigolds  . . . we enjoy those sweet tender leaves, the first of the season . . .  on plates of glass, gilded with oil and vinegar . . . and the tender snippings of those oniony spikes of chive, and lavender spiked blossom . . .




This is just the beginning of summer's song  . . . there is still so much of the garden's beautiful symphony to enjoy and to listen to . . . it is my favourite month of the year.




Let me tell you of the tender mercies of the Lord  . . .

- the sale of a painting which means we can now pay our rent for June.  He takes us to the very limits of our faith and then stretches it . . . an exercise which keeps my faith from becoming flabby . . .

- the finding of a long lost friend, some thirty years having passed hence, since we last communicated, and yet it is if it were only a blink of an eye had passed . . .

- a dream in which I got to hold my daughter's hand, and see love passed from eye to eye, where I had felt no love exists.  Only a dream, perhaps  . . .  but I still felt it, and that was enough for now . . . it filled my heart in an unexpected way . . .

- a small furry black head that tucked itself into my side, as we sat together on the sofa  . . . then soft liquid brown eyes that gazed up at me and filled my soul with a tenderness so sweet as to bring tears . . .

- hands to work, hearts to God.  When you go to work, on the Lord's errand, and forget yourself for a few hours . . . your own little troubles, they seem to melt away into nothingness . . .

And that will do for now.  The windows of heaven . . .

"The persistence and the fortitude that enable us to press forward with cheerfulness through physical limitations and spiritual difficulties are examples of the tender mercies of the Lord."
~David A Bednar, The Tender Mercies (well worth the read) 



In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Bean, Corn and Couscous Salad.

May you experience a Wednesday which is filled with the tender mercies of the Lord.   I hope you know that  . . .

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And I do too!