SWEET SILENCE

There is a sweetness to the silence
Of the early morning...
Wrapping around me, bringing peace
To ragged edges of my soul.

Loneliness does not afflict me
At this golden hour.
Each pore and cell revives..
Soothed....strength flows in.

It's that lovely morning hour.
The best of all the day.
A time to think, a time to pray,
A time to get in touch with God.

Out my window
I see lightly falling snow.
Wind, so crisp and fresh
Blows vitality over all.

Creativity rises within...
Shouts to be heard!
Spontaneous words of praise
Pour forth unto the Lord.

Touched by beauty
In morning hours...
Sweet silence
A gift to me from God.

Excerpted from "From A Cry of Anguish to a Shout of Praise" by Crystal J. Ortmann

LITTLE THINGS

A dewdrop sparkling in the rain.
The smile when love breaks through the pain.
Soft gentleness of a kiss from the one you love.
Tender words spoken when you feel down.
The honest acceptance by another.
A friend...one who listens and still loves.
The sun, after days of gloom, spilling gold in every room

Talents...always there, yet newly discovered.
The love of your child.
The earnestness of your husband as he shares his hopes and fears.
A little compliment dropped your way.
The smile of another that made the day.
The touch of a compassionate hand.
Walking through the sand barefoot.
The sound of wind in the trees....
Sometimes a breeze, sometimes causing awe.
A glass of water.
Aroma of coffee.
Doing something for others, especially when they don't know who did it.
Making someone happy.
The scent of fresh-baked bread.
Roses, violets, lilacs...all the beauty of sight and smell.
Blue sky, fluffy white clouds.
Walking where it isn't crowded.
Laughter.
Peace.
A good book.
The smell of the forest after rain.
A roaring bonfire on a cold night.

So many little things planned by God to bring us happiness.

Thank You, Father.

Contentment in My Own Backyard

Contentment in My Own Backyard

By
Crystal J. Ortmann


Drifted snow dazzles as the sun brushes glistening strokes across a canvas of white. Tiny prints create a webbed design in the almost flawless covering. Larger, less aesthetic tracks make deep indentations leading up to the bird feeders.
Deep contentment wells up in me as I lug suet, birdseed and water up the hill. Hushed chirps whispered in the trees above remind me I am being watched. The feathered crowd supervises and I can almost hear them say, “Cool. What a spread!” I move slowly in order not to startle them.
Millet and sunflower seeds drop on the ground for the sparrows and other ground feeders. Someone obviously took a bath in the birdbath and didn’t wash out the tub, so I scrub a little before filling it with clean water.
A low watt heater keeps the bath open in the icy weather. While filling the other feeders the sounds of impatient chirps in the branches above become louder. It’s a very mundane job, but somehow I feel as though I’m doing something very significant—helping those who cannot always care for themselves. It’s an opportunity to provide sustenance when outdoor conditions are adverse.

I like to think I bring joy to a twittering group of unlikely comrades. Although many are normally enemies and the pecking order is strictly followed, there is enough for all and, for the most part, harmony reigns (until the starlings arrive!!! They are the original dysfunctional family of the bird world). Contentment comes knowing that my caring made life a little easier today for those feathered creatures.

Old and Rusty: Many Tales to Tell

There's just something about old barns and rusting vehicles that thrills me. I love to think about the stories behind each one. On the way out to a forested hiking place my husband and I love, we drive along a winding road. Dips and heights and forests and low places, it's all so beautiful.

An old barn, weathered from years of use and the elements, looks about to fall down, yet is still there many years after we first laid eyes on it.

I stop to take a picture of it and the rusting hulk of a truck, now covered with blackberry vines.

My mind runs wild thinking about the settlers that cultivated this patch of wilderness. Where are they now? From where did they come? How many hopes and dreams went into the plowing and harvesting? Why did they leave?

I'll never know the answers to those particulars, but I like to think about the way I find beauty in old and rusty things, just as God does in me. I'm getting old and for sure feel quite rusty at times, but He loves me anyway. The difference is, He knows my story and there is no mystery or sense of worthlessness there.

"Showers on the Herb"

This morning during devotions, I read the following Scripture: Deuteronomy 32:3 (New American Standard Bible) "'Let My teaching drop as the rain, My speech distill as the dew, as the droplets on the fresh grass and as the showers on the herb.'"

What a beautiful picture of God's love and mercy. His Word has infinite power to cleanse, heal, mend, refresh, cover with goodness, and beautify. He takes the parched places of our souls and gives eagerly to those who thirst.

Let His holy rain and dew fall.

Am I Too Cautious?

AM I TOO CAUTIOUS?

Crystal J. Ortmann

My morning coffee tastes good – rich, dark and strong. Steam spirals up from the full mug as I revel in the peace and quiet of this early hour.
I love to watch the birds at my feeders. There is a hanging feeder filled with nectar for the hummingbirds. There are also feeders for sparrows, finches and doves. But the one that seems to receive the most attention is filled with peanuts. Crows, jays and squirrels jockey for position and it’s easy to see where the phrase “pecking-order” originated. It’s entertaining to watch.
After a while, I get to know various critters personally. I admit, I talk to them and even name some, such as “Ted,” the House Sparrow, and “Bubba,” the Crow. I recognize them by their looks but also by their personalities.
Crows and jays are by nature noisy, quarrelsome birds. Although they are all afraid of the squirrel, they fight with each other on a regular basis. As soon as the peanuts arrive at the feeder, the show begins.
The adult birds are, for the most part, confident and even pushy. They know their way around the feeders and water dish. The fledglings are pretty much grown by now, although a number of them still want the parent to feed them. They are also less sure of themselves than are the adults. Each surveys the surroundings carefully and then tries to emulate the parents. However, there are two birds that have real difficulty making a decision and acting on it.
One of the almost-grown crows visits often. He walks up the railing and nears the feeder. He looks up, down, around, and then shuffles his feet a little. He walks forward, then looks like he is about to jump at the feeder. Suddenly, he starts walking backwards and stands there longing for the peanuts, but he is too afraid to pass the water dish, which stands between him and the feeder. The whole process starts again . . . and again . . . and again.
I frantically urge him onward. He looks each direction multiple times for enemies. He could eat twenty peanuts in the time it takes him to make up his mind. He starts out again and finally gets the courage to fly at the feeder, but then he falls off. Now he’s really in a tizzy and I’m nearly wild with frustration on his behalf.
“Will you just go up to that feeder and get a peanut!” I almost shout at him. Just as he decides he’ll go for it again, another bird swoops in and takes the peanut. I can’t believe it as I dance in agony, hoping he will soon make a decision.
A Steller ’s jay is also a regular visitor to our feeders, but it takes him forever to make a choice about which and how many peanuts to take. He studies and sorts the peanuts, trying to fit the most and the biggest into his beak. He picks one up and lays it down. Very often, another bird dives down and helps himself and the jay ends up with nothing. This process goes on for what seems like years.

Somehow, these two remind me of myself. Life is painful at times. I get flown at and pecked. I get hurt by my own kind. Someone takes what I want because I delayed too long, trying to check it all out and choose the biggest and best.
I don’t always have the self-confidence to step forward and have encountered obstacles that block me from my desire. God does want me to be cautious, just not so hesitant I can’t function. I need to look for dangers and be wise. However, if I wait too long, or can’t make a decision, I may just lose out.

Contentment

Contentment

By
Crystal J. Ortmann


Drifted snow dazzles as the sun brushes glistening strokes across a canvas of white. Tiny prints create a webbed design in the almost flawless covering. Larger, less aesthetic tracks make deep indentations leading up to the bird feeders.
Deep contentment wells up in me as I lug suet, birdseed and water up the hill. Hushed chirps whispered in the trees above remind me I am being watched. The feathered crowd supervises and I can almost hear them say, “Cool. What a spread!” I move slowly in order not to startle them.
Millet and sunflower seeds drop on the ground for the sparrows and other ground feeders. Someone obviously took a bath in the birdbath and didn’t wash out the tub, so I scrub a little before filling it with clean water.
A low watt heater keeps the bath open in the icy weather. While filling the other feeders the sounds of impatient chirps in the branches above become louder. It’s a very mundane job, but somehow I feel as though I’m doing something very significant—helping those who cannot always care for themselves. It’s an opportunity to provide sustenance when outdoor conditions are adverse.
I like to think I bring joy to a twittering group of unlikely comrades. Although many are normally enemies and the pecking order is strictly followed, there is enough for all and, for the most part, harmony reigns (until the starlings arrive!!! They are the original dysfunctional family of the bird world). Contentment comes knowing that my caring made life a little easier today for those feathered creatures.