Glimmers from God

/ Anthea Tripp

Glimmer, whether used as a noun or a verb, is such a descriptive word in the English language! Dictionaries define it as a faint or unsteady shining light—a twinkle, shimmer, or flicker.

A glimmer of light as dawn breaks.
The lamp shines a glimmer of hope. 

Nowadays, the word glimmer has acquired an even deeper meaning and often is used in plural. Glimmers will spark feelings of joy, calm and safety. They can be internal or external cues that ignite positive emotions. Light in the darkness. Hope in the future. Warm fuzzies.

Glimmers are everywhere if we will take time to seek and feel their magic. Beauty is all around us, even when we feel lost, afraid, alone, hopeless, or sad. To me, glimmers represent tiny flickers of God’s grace, whispers of His love and assurance that uplift our spirits and provide peace in what has become a noisy, chaotic world.

I wrote this poem today, inspired by some of my favorite glimmers. Hope you enjoy!

Glimmers from God

Blue skies and sunshine,

Green trees and quiet time,

Rolling hills and nature walks,

Special friends and long talks. 


These beautiful things are truly free!

Glimmers from God for you and me.


Ocean spray and wave swells,

Mountain trails and wooded dells, 

Babbling brooks and bird songs, 

Restore peace when the soul longs. 


These beautiful things are truly free!

Glimmers from God for you and me.


Fields of flowers and busy bees,

Butterflies flit in the gentle breeze,

Raindrop rivulets on window panes, 

Snowflake drifts in country lanes. 


These beautiful things are truly free, 

Glimmers from God for you and me. 


Kind words, the touch of a hand, 

A happy smile, footprints in sand,

Fiery sunsets, and a moonlit night,

Family love that shines so bright. 


These beautiful things are truly free, 

Glimmers from God for you and me. 


When life hits, and it’s hard to cope,

Glimmers renew our sense of hope. 

Sing grateful praise to God above.

Joy is born when we rest in His love. 

— a poem by Anthea

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. —Matthew 11:28-30

Joy is Not a Mountain-Top Exclusive

/ Anthea Tripp

JOY! It is not only found in the epic, mountain-top-moments of life, although the exhilaration derived from exciting, breathtaking experiences certainly will ignite a giddy sense of happiness deep within us. Feeling alive and joyful comes easily where the air is pure and we’re perched on top of the world.

If only we could live there forever!


While it’s an idyllic place, it isn’t realistic. At some point, life interrupts and we find ourselves in a valley. Daily living seizes us and the tantalizing high we felt morphs into boring routine. We face unexpected circumstances that challenge our limits—killjoys! We may even fall into a rut. We battle a range of emotions as our journey carries us on a roller coaster of ups and downs and all around. We wonder what became of the mountain-top joy. We yearn to feel it.

Take heart if you’re in the valley of daily grind. Dear ones, take it from one who knows—at some point the mountain-top-moments will reappear. You can turn the page in your book of life and enter a new chapter. It’s the way of the world.

Meantime, joy is not exclusive to a mountain top moment. Every day we are surrounded by beauty, awaiting discovery. Things to delight us. The wonders of nature, a kind smile from a stranger. Many magical little moments. So, bloom where you’re planted. Rejoice in daily miracles. Seek out small wonders. Be grateful.

And most of all, give. Give yourself to others—be kind and encourage. Show grace, understanding, and love. Shine your light for all to see.

Seek joy in the circumstances. Share that joy with others.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. —1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

The Fox, the Deer, and the Apples

/ Anthea Tripp

Meanwhile back at the ranch ….
The evening air feels serene and still after the hustle and bustle of busy city life. Here, it’s peaceful, relaxing. Soulful.

Yet, as I sit ever so still and quietly on the deck, I’m reminded that Mother Nature is constantly in motion. She is alive with activity.

Oak leaves dance in the gentle breeze, insects scurry hither and thither, the bees are buzzing, and birds singing their songs. Our ranch wildlife is on the move—each of God’s creatures pursuing their daily routines, oblivious to my pondering.

Mama fox hungrily devours chopped green apples while one of her kits looks on from under the deck. She’s aware of my presence but appears unafraid. Continuing to munch, she keeps a watchful eye on the timid deer slowly closing in. Interestingly, despite their size, the deer are more fearful of her than she of them. Foxes have been known to kill deer.

I am enthralled at the scene before me, overjoyed to see the interactions between these beautiful creatures. Competitors for sustenance and reputed adversaries, they coexist at the ranch. On this occasion, a shared meal brings them together, their differences are set aside.

Harmony reigns. All is well.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

 

Guardians of Ages Past.

/ Anthea Tripp

The giant Sequoias stand tall and gnarled amidst the forest’s misty hush. Their ancient boughs stretch skyward, cradling precious secrets in their lofty crowns—safeguarding tales from centuries past.

A multitude of emerald leaves sings hymns of joy—sacred anthems praising the mighty Creator. Songs of resilience, endurance, and hope.

These majestic sentinels, silent guardians of the winding trails, have withstood the test of time. Is it any wonder that beneath their shady canopies the weary wanderer seeks solace and finds a sacred dwelling place?

Beside the towering trunks one feels a timeless strength. And look, there amongst those twisted earthbound roots and ferns, peek tiny, sun-kissed flowers, restoring grace for the soul, and affirming the promise of life hereafter.

May the Sequoia’s grandeur inspire you with wonder, reverence and eternal peace.

For Lyndsey xo

The Silent Sentinel

/ Anthea Tripp

Meanwhile, back at the ranch …. she sat stoically on the winding stone wall along the ridge, watching us arrive and unpack supplies from the truck. There was a quiet calm about her statue-like pose which I interpreted as her acceptance of our presence, almost as if she knew our return was inevitable. She remained vigilant, her gaze unflinching as she contemplated our every move.  This grey fox displayed an unmistakable posture!

A silent sentinel, I thought.

It’s not unusual to see a fox at the ranch. We don’t know exactly how many adult foxes claim our property as their territory but we know for sure there are three! During this visit we witnessed all three together which is a first for us.

Sightings are a pretty common occurrence, almost daily, especially when we leave scraps out for them. They’ll gobble the food, ever watchful though, but when we approach they’ll turn tail and scamper off, keeping a safe distance.

The demeanor of this particular fox was different. She seemed more confident, allowing us to approach her with scraps of sausage without running away.  She seemed reluctant to leave at times, though I also sensed a certain air of defiance from her. She was determined to stand her ground.

A couple of days ago, around dinner time, we observed that same sentinel-like pose. This times she had situated herself a few feet from our deck, scrutinizing our movements in and around the house. Why didn’t we guess her true motives? Why didn’t we realize our fox was protecting something infinitely more precious than her territory. By now you have probably caught on!

Yes, once you know the backstory her behavior makes perfect sense. She is indeed a sentinel. A protector. This Mama Fox is guarding her babies. Her den (or one of them) is nestled under our deck. Late afternoon, on a couple of occasions, she and her adorable kits have emerged from their den to play in the sun beside the deck, while we looked on in delight.

Beautiful, untamed nature in the raw. What a joy to behold.

People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said, “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. From “The Little Prince”.

Flowers for My Mother

/ Anthea Tripp

It’s been almost 9 years since my beautiful mother went to heaven. I think of her often with such joy and gratitude. In my day to day living, even little things can stimulate remembrances of her that make me smile, or remind me of her wisdom, her indomitable spirit, upbeat attitude, her courage, her deep love for my dad and I—and for life itself.

There are days when I miss her more than words can express. It is only my heart that knows the depth of longing at those times.

On some occasions, my inner child, the little girl Anthea, simply yearns for her Mummy. Truthfully it’s been one of those weeks, the longing for her magnified by the approach of Mother’s Day. A hug, a touch, a reassuring word. A few minutes to sit on a quiet bench and chat about life in all its glory. Imagine that. A mother and great grandmother in her own right, still needing her mom. A successful, independent businesswoman, and to some, a tower of strength, pining for Mother!

No matter our age and stature, will we always miss our moms? At times, do we desperately need them? I certainly hope so. A loving mother with a powerful impact on her child can never be forgotten. She is imprinted in the soul of her offspring. In our hearts we hear her whisper words of wisdom, comfort and hope.

My mother loved flowers, those she cultivated in her own garden, but also wildflowers of all varieties. There was always a vase of fresh cut flowers in our home.

As a child I delighted in gathering primroses, bluebells and other wildflowers from the nearby fields and woodlands. A posy especially for Mum, presented with love. And, oh the unbridled joy that simple gift bestowed. Rejoice in the meaningful little things. 

Today, after several weeks of busyness, and this past week’s slew of unexpected challenges, I picked up my brushes and completed the watercolor paintings of primroses and bluebells that you see above. Flowers for my beloved mother. I love you Mum. xo

Happy Mother’s Day 2024 to mothers everywhere. 

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Matthew 6:28

Our Sparkling Diamond

/ Anthea Tripp

We can hardly believe it! Here we are in the Isle Skye on our trek up to the Old Man of Storr, pictured behind us!

We were asked what we had planned for our Diamond Anniversary, so thought you might enjoy hearing the back story.

In October 1963, Chuck placed a diamond engagement ring on my finger in Scotland.

 

On this, our sixtieth anniversary, the gift is a different kind of diamond. It’s a gift to each other. The Isle of Skye is our sparkling diamond.

The wonder of it all. Yes, powerful dreams can come true. Thank you Lord for granting the desire of our hearts.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. 
Psalm 37: 4

 

 

A Journey into Sunlight

/ Anthea Tripp

I’m calling this creation Journey into sunlight. From the word prompts for Week 2 of the #100daysofwonder2024 I chose the word “journey” as my creative inspiration.

After all, life in all its glory is a journey, isn’t it? It’s full of twists and turns, and roller coaster moments—bursting with ever changing shades of grey, rainbow colors, and varying speeds, always keeping us on our toes. Living in expectation of what’s next.

For several days this past week I was imprisoned by my least favorite chore—shrouded in a foggy, grey cloud of obligatory tax preparation. Yes, it was one of those “must-get-it-done-now” things so I wouldn’t have to face it later. So I buckled down!

On completion of the task I felt as though I’d broken through the confining gloom of a densely wooded thicket and stepped into the welcome embrace of a bright sunny meadow.

This painting depicts how I felt in that moment. It’s the scene I envisioned in my mind as I stepped from the murky shadows of the dark wood and into the sunlit field. Oh joy! Sunshiny yellows.

I slipped through a gap in the nearby fence to follow the grassy avenue, beckoning me to journey on—towards the light.

I hope your weekend is blessed with sunshiny moments of wonder ✨💛

 

The Sparrow

/ Anthea Tripp

I promised myself one miniature watercolor per week. Lol. Little did I know what this week would bring. Without boring divulging the boring details, I scrounged some time this afternoon to produce this little guy while the workmen hammered tiles on our roof. It’s intended to be a sparrow. You decide. It’s for sure a bird of sorts! 

From the seven words to prompt inspiration, I chose “sparrow”. It resounded with me after my unexpected crazy week. In scripture, Luke reassures us that not a single sparrow is forgotten, and God even knows the number of hairs on our head. That is so very comforting to me this week. How was your week? Here’s wishing you a wonderful weekend. 

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. —Luke 12:6

The Wonder of It All

/ Anthea Tripp
The beauty of small wonders, a gnarled tree covered in moss, deep in the forest.

During my early childhood years our family lived in a rural area of Oxfordshire. We were surrounded by small farms with livestock and grain fields. Wooded areas and copses were abundant.  Groves of oaks, elms, and horse chestnut trees were scattered around the countryside. Gnarled weeping willows lined the banks of trickling streams and small ponds fed by the frequent drizzle, so typical of England. Everything was lush and green.

Growing up in that untamed environment was magical. My friends and I would immerse ourselves in the beauty of nature for hours after school and on weekends. We marveled at beautiful treasures hidden in every hedgerow, thicket, field and stream.

We were never bored. There was so much to see and do; from catching tadpoles, to discovering bird nests, to climbing willow trees, to collecting wild flowers, to searching for the biggest conkers. It was a time of innocence—enchanting and carefree. I learned wonderment. The beauty of small miracles that feed the soul. 

I believe those moments in my formative years instilled a permanent sense of wonder in me. Ever since I was a child I have been captured by the magnificence of Nature. The beauty of every living thing captivates me and holds my soul hostage. I become spellbound by the wonder of it all, so much so that when I see such raw beauty I feel compelled to capture it on film, so as never to lose the magic of the encounter. Oh, what a Creator we have who delights us with His stunning creations. 

With all of that said, I have joined a group called The 100 Days of Wonder 2024. Read more here if you’re interested. Suffice it to say I am excited to challenge myself for the next 100 days. It’s a huge leap of faith for me as this is one of the busiest times of this year for us. We are preparing for a major trip in March for our 60th anniversary. A new roof is about to go on our house. I have a health and wellness business to manage. Daily chores to tend to. Need I go on? 

AND, after 40 odd years of not creating a painting (and back then it was with oils) I am endeavoring to paint some watercolors. No, there will likely not be 100 paintings created, but I will complete at least one per week during the time frame, and more as time permits. What I am promising myself is to create something—a story, a sketch, a painting or some artsy or literary “creation” that has inspired me, fed my soul, or given me cause for wonderment. 

The leader of this group, D. Michele Perry, whom I randomly discovered on Instagram @dmicheleperry, and to whom I give credit for inspiring me to step up and start painting watercolors, will email participants one word per day—they come in a group of seven on a Saturday—one for each day of the week.  The project begins tomorrow, February 18th.

Two of the first group of seven words are “Forest and Moss”. I immediately thought of our holiday in the Lake District last year where Chuck captured the above photo of me marveling at this moss-laden tree, deep in the woods.

I am wondering which single word, or combination of the seven words will propel me into creative action this coming week? It’s going to be a fun, fulfilling activity. After all, aren’t we destined to create too?

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. —Genesis 1:27