outside my window air hangs heavy
yesterday’s rain now stale
drops in slow motion from the gutter
exposed trees stand breathless
caught in damp morning heat
I hear the rhythmic beat
of tires coming and going
on the road beside our house
August is the saddest month
weary of relentless summer
it languishes—
counting the days
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 August 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Symphony
The way ahead runs like a ribbon
through autumn hills
draped in early morning mist.
Foreground reality sturdy
and reassuring frames
this snapshot of life–
an adventure into unknown territory.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 August 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, Autumn 2015
Driving through Cairngorms National Park, Scotland
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Foggy
This past Sunday D and I visited Chanticleer. It’s only a 20 minute drive from our house. You can walk through the entire garden, with a few off-path adventures, in a couple of hours. Alternatively, you can spend the day exploring tempting side paths. Bring your picnic lunch and eat at one of the picnic tables, or on your own blanket spread anywhere you like on the grass. Or you could sit in a lawn chair and read a book all afternoon.
On Sunday it was a bit crowded, but not too much for a leisurely stroll punctuated with stops for photo ops. D took the photo at the top on Mother’s Day in May 2015. It’s one of my favorites. Later this week I’ll post a photo review of Sunday’s visit.
During the last few weeks I’ve begun reviewing all my Haiku/Poetry posts, selecting some for possible publication in an ebook. The poem below is among them, inspired by the photo at the top.
the garden of my heart
sits quietly waiting
chairs placed side by side
beam with glowing luster
tadpoles swim
mosquitoes buzz
flowers dip and sway,
music from a springtime breeze
invites me out to play
lily pads provoke a game
of hopscotch cricket-style
dragon-flies flit overhead
and clap their wings for joy
cool water laps around the reeds
a gentle under-tone
announcing your arrival soon
to be with me
alone
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 June 2015
Photo found at Chanticleer Garden Guide
Chanticleer Pond Garden
Time to get back to sorting through those lovely poems. Surprisingly, I’m feeling more energized about this project than I anticipated. Thanks for all the likes and comments you left in the past, especially on my haiku/poetry posts. It’s heartwarming to see and read them again! Even inspirational.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 August 2017
I grew up in a church that wanted to know exactly when and where you were converted, and from what. The deeper the degradation, the more your story was valued. Unfortunately, I had no dramatic story. Sometimes I wondered whether I was a ‘real’ Christian.
In November 2013 I wrote the following brief piece to read at a church meeting. I read it this morning and teared up. A timely reminder of how God works in my life.
I don’t remember when I received Jesus into my life. I do, however, remember times when I was lost, and God came looking for me. One of these was a huge turning point in my life.
I was in my 40s. Outwardly I seemed to be following Jesus; inside, I was lost.
In my mid-40s, I learned about family matters over which I had no control. Secrets I’d been carrying inside me for years began to eat away at my gut. I fell into deep depression. At home I sat for hours doing nothing but staring out the window, or weeping uncontrollably. At night I frequently asked God to just take me while I was sleeping. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning. I wanted to die.
I had always survived by being a good girl on the outside, and hiding what was on the inside. This took great effort. I had also become addicted to running my own life and thinking I could run everyone else’s too! But it wasn’t working; my body, my emotions and my spirit were in turmoil.
I believe God was trying to get my attention. And there was a price: I would have to come out of hiding and ask for help. I was terrified. What would people think of me? Fortunately, I was also desperate.
So I began attending a 12-step program to deal with some of my family matters. At my first meeting no one frowned, judged me, or expected me to perform. They weren’t shocked when I told them why I was there. They just welcomed me, smiled, listened, encouraged me, and said to keep coming back.
So I did. Slowly, I began to relax, join the rest of the human race, and trust that God was in this process.
Today I’m still a recovering human being and a grateful follower of Jesus Christ. Sometimes I still struggle with shame and anxiety, and try to control my life or change other people. I don’t, however, suffer from deep depression or pray that God will take me while I’m sleeping. I remind myself daily that I am God’s beloved daughter child, and that this is more than enough to bring God delight. When the time comes for my final home-going, my only hope will be to appear before God then as I do now: just as I am without one plea.
If you’re feeling lost or despondent today, God may be trying to get your attention.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 July 2017
It’s Summer 2016. In early April I got my pacemaker (Lucy); two weeks later I broke my jaw and had my teeth wired for 4-5 weeks. The idea of going on the cruise we’d already planned seemed crazy. But it wasn’t. My main activity during the cruise was resting, sleeping, and eating soft food! In other words, it was, for me, a huge Sabbath Rest.
One year ago D and I, with our daughter and son-in-law enjoyed a huge once-in-a-lifetime cruise down the Rhine, Main and Danube Rivers. Here are random favorites that depict the heart, if not the full reality of Sabbath rest. The ducks at the top are showing how it’s done. We spotted them at Kinderdijk. The photos below were taken on the way to Cologne and in one of the parks there.
For starters, here’s a photo of me sound asleep, doing Nothing.
Just looking at this makes me go all limp.
And what about those snazzy socks!
Here are some rather limp cattle we passed along the way.
They didn’t even look up or ask what we were doing!
Just kept napping, chewing their cud, and chilling out.
Not to be outdone by cattle,
this water fowl family is getting into the spirit of things, too.
Doing mostly nothing but enjoying an outing together.
And here’s a young couple also doing nothing
but resting and enjoying this beautiful view of the river.
I wonder who they are?
Here they are again!
We saw them quite often during the cruise.
They smiled a lot. Definitely a sign of Sabbath joy.
Well look at that!
This Sabbath rest thing seems to be popular with everyone.
Especially when it means enjoying nature.
Here’s our trusty photographer, aka D,
taking a picture of himself in front of a reflective screen.
He’s enjoying relaxed time in his very relaxed outfit!
You don’t have to dress up for Sabbath rest, you know.
Nearby was this calm bunny taking great joy in a favorite snack!
There’s that good-looking couple again!
They look like they’re enjoying each other and nature and
a complete break from their normal busy, creative lives.
Just as I’m trying to do right now.
You might say nature enjoys Sabbath every day.
But sometimes it outdoes itself with beauty. Natural beauty.
This looks like Sabbath-day best to me.
And this little bee is having the feast of a lifetime.
You might say its cup is running over with joy and delight.
Back on the cruise ship, D got this evening shot of
the Cologne Cathedral, spires pointing upwards.
A silent reminder of the source of our life, our rest and our joy.
Blessings of peace and rest to each of you.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 July 2017, reposted on 6 August 2022
Photos taken by DAFraser, Summer 2016 Viking Cruise
hanging on for dear life
gnarled roots exposed
soil sifts away with
each new flash flood
no rock bottom in sight
turbulence guaranteed
in more than the air
reeking with harbingers
of hard times ahead
soil ill-prepared
for these upheavals
brittle dry sinews of our
vulnerability on display
slow motion relentless
yesterday disappearing
before our eyes can adjust
in this foreboding present
Every day my eyes are pulled to headlines and news articles that sometimes offer more than they can deliver. Instead, they leave me without comfort or enlightenment. Sometimes they destroy any iota of clarity I thought I’d achieved. It isn’t laughable; it’s tragic. Not because of the news industry, but because of what passes these days as news.
So here’s the news I’m counting on these days–good for me, good for you and good for the animals and mother earth!
Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens,
Your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
Your justice like the great deep.
You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
You give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
In your light we see light.
Psalm 36: 5-9 (New International Version)
Psalm 36 was written during politically troubled times filled with those who flattered themselves “too much to detect or hate their sin.” So-called leaders were failing to “act wisely or do good” and did not reject what was wrong.
The only antidote to evil and falsehood is truth. Speaking it, yes. Even more potent, living it. Daring to live each day in the light of our Maker—the only light in which we see light, whether we live and whether we die. The unseen source and goal of our dear lives.
Praying this day will bring moments of deep calm and clarity.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 July 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012, Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Shallow
Here’s an Emily Dickinson poem that appeals to the child in each of us. I also find it timely, all things considered. My response follows her poem.
Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!c. 1859
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Dear Emily,
I wonder what was on your mind when you wrote this. Maybe the War between the States? Family members who fought in it? Or how about the devastation left behind when so many cities and fertile fields were laid waste via fire?
Some people don’t think things here are that bad now; others don’t agree. I’d say we at least have something like it.
Then again, maybe you were thinking of less visible things. Perhaps a personal loss you couldn’t show the world. Or the piled up anguish of watching one family member after another decline in health and leave this world. Or your keen awareness that this world doesn’t always value what you value, or see things the way you do.
I think we have all of that right now, and more just keeps coming. I also think we’re getting tired of it.
Maybe you were lonely when you wrote this. So lonely that you would have been happy to leave this life behind. You might have been lonely for the birds and insects, trees and shrubs, water lilies and butterflies, sunrises and sunsets. All creatures great and small. Your outdoor cathedral and congregation where you felt safe, understood and appreciated. Without having to explain yourself over and over.
In your poem you call yourself a little Pilgrim. I like that. It’s a very kind and tender way to talk about yourself. Almost, but not quite putting yourself down because you don’t happen to be a scholar, sailor or wise man from the skies. I think you’re already a wise woman, a sailor of sometimes treacherous social seas, and a deep scholar of human life.
Now that you’re There, I wonder whether, as a Wise Woman from the skies, you might tell me where the place called “Morning” lies. Could you? Would you? It seems we have many lost souls here who are looking for that place. If not here, then where? Can you help us find it? Or at least send us a little poem about it?
Your pen pal, Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 July 2017
Photo found at collegewritingpoetry.wordpress.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Hidden
I’m just back from seeing my kidney doctor to go over recent lab tests. Two things in particular have me ecstatic!
Speaking of visiting, tomorrow D and I are going next door for tea with our neighbors. He cooked the fabulous Quinoa and Garbanzo Bean dish (Indian style) for me, and she’s a medical doctor. Yesterday I saw Rita while we were out walking. I’m due a cup of tea with her, as well.
That’s it for now. Just felt like I would pop wide open if I didn’t share my good news!
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 July 2018
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tea
Smell of fear
Binds her tongue
Without
And within
Residue
Of storms
Long past
Hovering
Just beyond
Eyesight
Deep within
Her psyche
Spawning fear
Of her powerful
Voice locked
In neutral
Going nowhere
I always die a little when I speak in public. It doesn’t matter how confident or calm I sound on the outside. I shake on the inside, sometimes trembling physically when I’m finished. If fear were a fragrance, I would reek of it.
I’ve always chalked this up to being an introvert with thin skin. Afraid of what people will think of me and my ideas. Especially when I’m speaking in a religious setting.
Little wonder. My thinking and writing about God, the world and Christian faith aren’t always considered acceptable, much less mainstream by either more conservative or more liberal listeners.
Nonetheless, I think this fear runs deeper.
This weekend I had a small dialogue with myself about my voice. Especially my writing voice. I love it. Often, looking back at old posts, I’m moved to tears.
Nonetheless, I’ve been dragging my feet on the idea I floated well over a month ago. Dragging my feet while pretending to move ahead. Hoping to generate enough energy to begin working on an e-book of selected postings.
This past weekend, I hit pay dirt. Here’s what I wrote in my journal on Friday and Saturday evenings, lightly edited for clarity.
Friday evening, after lots of agonized words about getting nowhere.
Right now this is an undocumented project. Notes, but no measurable, incremental steps recorded….I say I don’t have to do this, yet I want to do it! What’s holding me back? I want to know. I feel a little stuck and frightened. Of what? I don’t know. Am I afraid of my own voice?
Then Saturday evening:
Yes! I’m stuck and I’m frightened of my own voice…Today I read through about 15 of my most liked poems and chose one to reblog—the Amy post about being weary of my life—her lament that’s so like mine. “You are about my bed.” Where I’m lying—stuck and frightened of my own voice.
I accept this truth and want to welcome it as a stranger…rather than denying its existence, and thus denying the dormant power of my voice….Was this one reason my father tried to beat my voice out of me??? Did he see something I couldn’t see? Something that frightened or threatened him and his voice? “You are about my bed.”
And Sunday evening:
Yes! I have a powerful voice, and have had all my life.
I’m sure I’ll learn more along the way. But this is where I find myself today, Monday.
Thanks for listening and reading!
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 July 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompts: Fragrance; Dormant
Telling the Truth 