The Painted Turtle :: Artistically Waiting

The Painted Turtle :: Artistically Waiting

 

This morning, as I flipped through my devotional book from “Our Daily Bread”, I turned to a later date and for curiosity stayed on it. It got my attention due to the title : Waiting with the Turtle. Five years ago or more my life was completely different. Yours probably was too, but I distinctly remember hearing my dog bark ferociously at one of these creatures outside of my house. When I went to go check, there she was. Out of nowhere it seems. And now here she is again. Still waiting, but with a clearer vision. Guess what. The turtle. More beauty. And a story began.

“The Waiting With The Turtle” article explains that every fall, when the painted turtle senses winter coming, she dives to the bottom of her pond, burning herself in the muck and mud. She pulls into her shell and goes still: her heart rate slows, almost stopping, and her body temperature drops just above freezing, she stops breathing, and she waits. For six months she is buried while her bones release calcium into her bloodstream. This can even cause her to lose her shape. But when the pond thaws, she floats up, again breathing. Her bones reform, and she will feel the warmth of sun on her shell.

Psalm 40:01-5, 14-17Oliver's Travels

I waited patiently for the Lord ; he turned to me and heard my cry.

The author, just like me , thinks of the painted turtle when reading David’s description of waiting for God. Up out the mud and mire God lifts him out, giving him a place to stand. Maybe you feel like you have been waiting forever. I do. Deliverance from anything like a change in career, a bad situation, whatever. This shows us that the painted turtle and the psalmist are her to remind us to trust in God. He hears us and will deliver us.

All of this was encouraging. Years ago when I saw her in the yard it was a different situation. Here she is again. This time with A little more growth and hope. And like the turtle girl, I am slowly growing. Perhaps you are too.

 

~ McGlamorous

For the Birds

For the Birds

I love birds. We love birds. Let me explain.

My Grandmother loves birds. Ever since I was a little one we were careful and curious about examining her collections when we visited her house for sleep-overs. “No jumping!” I can hear it now as my two boy cousins and I ran around the sleeping bags on a Friday night. We were careful no to wake Grandma by shaking the den floor or the figurines representing her collection.

Many were gifts and I suppose milestone markers for special occasions, but they always perched in the case and held a special memory, especially now. I never knew I liked them so much until now, being around the artifacts in the house. Binoculars are always in reach for new species spotted on the feeder or bath, that is if the squirrels don’t leave a mess after their wild garden parties. When a visitor is spotted we can always run to the closet and find some Audubon reference for advice.

Perhaps the best thing about them is their song. Their appearance can brighten the dullest of days and their voices bring more sunshine into the yard. Caged or free, they adapt and set a good example of faith and spirit.

Many a poem or song has been given to them or inspired by them, art and jewelry being no exception. This post is not “for the birds”, but instead “FOR THE BIRDS”.

 

Art, Literature, Music and Poetry Inspired by Birds

Psalm 55:6,7

And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest…

Caged Bird

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou, “Caged Bird” from Shaker, Why Don’t You Sing? Copyright © 1983 by Maya Angelou. Used by permission of Random House, an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Source: The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (Random House Inc., 1994)
Bird on the Wire

Leonard Cohen

Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
Like a worm on a hook
Like a knight from some old-fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee
If I, if I have been unkind
I hope that you can just let it go by
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you
For like a baby, stillborn
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, “you must not ask for so much”
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, “hey, why not ask for more?”
Oh, like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
Songwriters: Leonard Cohen
Bird on the Wire lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Flee as a Bird

Flee as a bird to your mountain
Thou who art weary with sin
Go to the clear flowing fountain
Where you may wash and be clean
Fly, for the avenger is near thee
Call and the Savior will hear thee
He on his bosom will bear thee
Thou who art weary of sin, oh
Thou who art weary of sin
He will protect thee forever
Wipe every falling tear
He will forsake thee, oh, never
Sheltered so tenderly there
Haste now, the hours are flying
Spend not the moments in sighing
Cease from your sorrow and crying
The Savior will wipe every tear, oh
Haste now, the hours are flying
Spend not the moments in sighing
Cease from your sorrow and crying
The Savior will wipe every tear, oh
The Savior will wipe every tear
~ McGlamorous
I Love Color

I Love Color

I Love Color

 

A cool photo that requires a little rhyme…

 

I Love Color

 

I love color.

And wonder how it can be,

That a never ending blue sky

Can bring such joy to me.

 

A flame above a candlestick,

That flickers blue and red.

Colors in my garden.

Colors in my head.

 

A name for every color,

Time held, tried, and true.

A gift to every one of us,

Especially for you.

 

~Alison McGlamry