Mom and Dad share an intimate moment in the last week of her life

Emma Marie Fruth was born on August 8, 1921, second youngest of the thirteen children of Alois and Anna Catherine Fruth. The family lived on a farm near Luxemburg, and she attended grade school at St. Wendelin’s parish. She attended high school at Cathedral in St. Cloud, and nursing school at St. Mary’s Hospital School of Nursing in Minneapolis.

Emmy worked as a Registered Nurse for the VA in Minneapolis, Fergus Falls Hospital, Golden Valley Hospital, War Memorial Blood Bank, Arthritis Foundation, and St Olaf’s Nursing Home in Minneapolis.

She was always the best that she could be at her various callings: student, nurse, wife, mom, grandma, great grandma, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, friend.  Mom was Mary’s inspiration to become a nurse, from childhood on. She would look at Mom’s Nurse portrait on the wall, and desire to be like her. There are also 3 grandchildren who are in registered nursing programs. Mom was so proud of them.

Mom never complained about any job she was given, and she gave them all her best. How many people do we know who never complained about their jobs?

Emmy and Doc Thielmann were married July 9, 1946 at St. Wendelin’s Catholic Church in Luxemburg. When she and Dad were raising their five children, Mom was at home with them until the youngest was in school.

She was an excellent homemaker—We often walked home from school smelling the delicious aroma of bread baking from halfway home, and were treated to a slice of it fresh from the oven, spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar. Her baking and cooking skills were second to none. She cooked great meals and fed us very well—just look at us!  She had a secret way of refusing to take seconds when the platter came around the table, and setting it right in front of Lloyd so he could have more. She was in her glory when Dan and Lloyd would call her from Carl’s Tire Service where they worked and say that they were coming home for lunch. She would cook up a storm and feed them like royalty, so that they almost couldn’t go back to work.

She took part in our activities as we grew up, and was a terrific leader of Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Blue Birds, Campfire Girls, Brownies and Girl Scouts. She helped with Squires and Squirettes through the Knights of Columbus. Always, she brought to each project her own brand of joy and gentleness.

She loved gardening. She had an extensive rose garden at home in Crystal, and roses were her favorite flower. She raised many kinds of vegetables and flowering plants, and she knew the name of each one and cared for them all with a loving touch. She instilled in her children a love of nature—plants, trees, woods, the stars and constellations, animals. Her collection of African violets graced our home, some on the tables upstairs, and the rest in the basement under the grow lights. Her favorite color was purple.

At one time she overcame an intense fear of water, taking “Super Chicken” swimming lessons so that her children would not be afraid of water. She grew to love swimming, and we kids aren’t sure which we learned first: walking or swimming. She also enjoyed ice skating and cross country skiing, and kept up with exercising and fitness programs. We remember her exercising to Jack LaLane on tv. Emmy and Doc were very good at ballroom dancing, and enjoyed the lessons and the dances they attended. She volunteered as a transcriber of Braille for the Society for the Blind for many years. She loved to play the organ and sing.

Mom was a very creative, artistic person, and continued with her art until later years when her eyesight faded. She was an excellent seamstress, making most of our clothes as we grew up, plus clothes for Dad when he developed an allergy. She sewed suits, bridesmaid dresses, little girls’ Easter dresses, stuffed toys and everyday clothes. She knitted and crocheted, and learned every kind of needlework there is, including Hardanger, Tatting and Quilting. Emmy’s craft classes in Texas were well attended. She tried her hand at painting and pottery, and even handstitched pheasant feathers onto hat forms, taking care that every feather was individually attached and turned the right way so the light would catch the iridescent glow of each feather.  She has left behind a treasury of handcrafted memories, all created with love and joy. Her hands were never idle, but busy working on some kind of needlework. She leaves behind 3 daughters who follow that tradition.

Emmy was known also for constructing rosaries, and she taught dad and many others this craft.  Even in later years when she was legally blind, she continued to make rosaries. The St. Joseph rosary makers have made and donated over 55,000 rosaries. Her Catholic faith was very precious to her all throughout her life, and she was active in the church, taking part in Nocturnal Adoration, Christian Women, Columbian Women, and many other activities.

Doc and Emmy celebrated their 65^th wedding anniversary on July 9.  Both of them had their 90^th birthdays this summer, Dad’s on June 14 and Mom’s on August 8.

Mom received very good care at Guardian Angels Transitional Unit, where she stayed for about a month after fracturing her arm in June;  and at The Wellstead of Rogers, where Dad and Mom had their home. Mom’s last days on earth were spent in the Hospice Unit at North Memorial in Robbinsdale, and she received tender loving care from the hospice staff and her family. One day she was given a handful of pills to take, and she said something about “all those pills”. Jeanne sang her part of an old song: “Some pills make you happy, some pills make you sad…” and she looked at Dad and said, “He is my happy pill!”

On Sunday, August 14, 2011, her loving Father God looked at her, smiled, and said, “It’s late and you are tired. You are closer to My House than to yours now. Just come on home with Me.” And she did. Can you see her in your spirit right now, enjoying the Father’s beautiful rose gardens? There she is right over there, wearing no glasses or hearing aid, and dancing among the flowers while she waits for all of us to join her.

Mother

By Rhea Beaudry

The gift of Mother is like no other

Filled with Love from God above

She always hears and she dried our tears

Inside her arms, our hearts are warmed

For us she’d pray most every day

When things went wrong she sang a song

Ever quick to forgive – there’s a new day to live!

Our Mother’s our friend – she stayed to the end

Today we pray, Lord, You’ll repay

A crown in Heaven for all she’s given

You gave her grace to run the race

And lighted each day to show her the way

Lord, tell her today, for her we did pray

For Mother’s our Friend, and we’ll stay to the end

Bald eagle fledgling in northern Minnesota

How Steep the Climb

“…but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forward to what lies ahead,
I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”—Philippians 3:13-14

I had the privilege of observing the early life of a beautiful young eagle. The Hancock Wildlife Foundation’s website gave me a personal window into his world. In wonder and awe, I watched him develop from a hatchling to a chick, then an eaglet, a fledgling, and finally an independent juvenile eagle. Tiny’s story inspired me and changed my life forever. With an impact I have rarely felt, the Lord used him to speak deeply into my spirit. Many features of his life paralleled what I had experienced in my own life, and he taught me to trust God and choose life.

The forums, observations and discussions set up for this live webcam were incredibly fascinating. The lives of total strangers were merged by their common involvement with the eagle families being observed on this website. Beyond my expectations, I found this summer’s eagle watching experience to be life-changing.

The eagle family I observed was located on the Saanich Peninsula of Vancouver Island, near the village of Sidney. The nest was sponsored by David Hancock and his foundation. There was a team of dedicated volunteers who observed the nest from the ground while hundreds of us observed it by webcam. The “family” of observers shared observations, photos, videos, and friendly chat. There were a few times when passions ran strong and we felt our stresses, such as the day Tiny fell from the nest. All was dissolved in tears of joy when the situation resolved. I believe that many of us will return to the forums and reconnect, even when the eagles have migrated north, never again to be seen together as a family unit.

As for me, I have come away from this experience with a renewed sense of hope and trust in God that He is indeed aware of every moment of every struggle, and that His plan for me is good. While I still do not know what my next step will be, or the timing of it, I am far more able, like Tiny, to sit quietly at my post watching and waiting.

“You will restore me and make me live…” –Isaiah 38:16

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD…” — Jeremiah 29:11-14

Laboring diligently all winter to prepare a safe haven for their coming family, the Sidney eagle pair constructed a home with sturdily woven stick walls and a good bowl indentation to contain the coming eggs and the developing chicks. They chose an unlikely site in a dead tree with inadequate cover. However, there were lots of surrounding branches for the young to explore when learning to fly. Soft grasses lined the bowl for comfort. It was situated in the same area in which this pair had nested in previous years, and in spite of its exposure, it was virtually impregnable with the parents there to protect. None of their preparations were haphazard. Their devotion was meticulous.

Three eggs were laid in March. Nothing could keep the mother eagle from her faithful incubating, watching and waiting, so strong was her instinct for preservation of the specie. Those eggs were precious in her sight– the promise of new life – and they were never out of her sight or left alone and vulnerable to either the elements or predators. They were kept covered and safe, even during a late spring snowstorm. Mother eagle gently rolled the eggs from time to time for even distribution of warmth, and patiently waited for the chicks to hatch. Father eagle went hunting and brought Mother her meals. This was the second clutch in a row of three eggs to be produced by this pair of eagles. It is far more common to see two eggs.

Breeze hatched first, followed closely by Hero. Tiny did not emerge until over a week later, when his siblings had already begun to grow. The first independent act of the chick was to use his “egg tooth” and fight his way out of the confines of the egg. The chick was offered no assistance, and left to struggle his way out of the shell. The only encouragement I observed was that when the mother noticed that his pushing against the egg appeared to grow feeble, she would look down and gently nudge the breaking shell with her beak so that the baby would push back and renew his efforts. If the parents were to “help” him hatch, they would be hindering him by preventing him from developing the necessary strength, will and ability needed for his survival and development. Mother looked on and was right there to protect him. The parents took turns protecting the hatchlings; one remained brooding on the nest while the other went out to hunt for food for them.

The three tiny, down-covered grey chicks spent most of their time eating or sleeping beneath the breast feathers of the brooding parent. Brooding is such a protective posture. It is used in warming, protection from rain or wind, and comfort. The mother eagle became a “Mombrella” in the rain and a windbreak when blustery winds threatened to blow the tiny chicks from their nest. All three babies were able to squeeze in beneath her sheltering “mantle” with ease.

The parents took turns feeding the young. The one whose turn it was to be the hunter brought fish, small mammals, birds or rodents to the one who was sitting. One or both parents carefully shredded the prey to just the right size bites for the tiny chicks to eat. Full crops made for happy naptimes within the encircling warmth of soft parental feathers. They would eat and be filled, and then collapse into a food-induced comatose state. They would lie flat in the nest, thus we called them “flatlets.”

As they grew, the chicks spent a bit more time alone in the nest while both parents hunted for an ever increasing amount of food necessary to keep their young ones satisfied. They ate voraciously and grew by as much as a half inch a week in wingspan. The “fuzzlets” huddled together, often snuggling as they napped. When they were awake, they were actively exploring their nest surroundings and volleying for position nearest the incoming meals. They were seen chasing bugs, playing with sticks, and acting like curious toddlers.

Sibling rivalry soon developed in the eagle family and events took a nasty turn. The older, larger chicks began bullying Tiny, pecking him viciously or driving him away. Tiny was forced into submission, and nearly pushed off the nest several times. He had hatched last and was much smaller than Breeze and Hero. They took dominance over him, preventing him from getting fed, or snatching food from him. Tiny did not fight back, but learned quickly to go into a submissive position to prevent further abuse and protect himself. His parents did not stop this treatment, but left him to fend for himself.

Sometimes eaglets actually kill the smaller, weaker nestmate; and even then, the parents do not step in to prevent it. Nature appears cruel and cold at times, and it is all about the survival of the fittest. The smaller and weaker are forced to either give up or take action, a “fight or flight” reaction.

Tiny learned to sneak in and snatch food quickly from behind, beneath, and between the other hungry eaglets. He often got pecked in the head or beaked in the neck or wing doing this, but he was not deterred. I would laugh when Ma would bring in supper and Tiny would go in under her belly and pop out near her beak… where Hero would never attempt to peck Tiny! Brilliant move! He was learning to be tough and tenacious. He began to grow, but was still undersized and often sat alone with a submissive, head-down, forlorn demeanor. I remember thinking that Tiny would be a wonderful parent some day. He had struggled through so much adversity and had found a way to make life work. For awhile he was so much smaller and so ill treated it did not appear he would survive, but somehow he turned the corner, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Tiny had developed an amazing will to live. Survival instinct was strong in him, and he stubbornly held his own, even amidst the most adverse conditions. He inspired me, in the face of some of my own most difficult life experiences, to choose life and to move forward.

With one of the food deliveries and feeding times, a snarl of orange baling twine or weed whip line made its appearance in the nest. This was a source of great danger to the chicks. They could so easily have become snarled up and trapped and be unable to get free of it. To my horror, Tiny became entangled when a loop of this twine encircled his leg! He struggled and struggled to get free, but was tethered fast to one side of the nest and couldn’t reach the food that had been brought in. He lay down in frustration and exhaustion. Soon, Hero came close to him. Tiny went into his submissive mode, but didn’t flinch when Hero began to pick at the string with her beak. Tiny was rescued by the sibling who had formerly attacked him the most. Fighting his instinct to pull away, he held his foot still and allowed the larger eaglet to remove the loop of string. Then she walked away from him peacefully. When Tiny got up, he was able to lift his foot from the confines of the loop. The “horrible orange twine”, as we dubbed it, did not disappear from the nest, but the eaglets actually learned to avoid it.  From that point on, it seemed Hero and Tiny were the best of friends, and often shared their food and body warmth. (This episode was how Hero got her name.)

The young eaglets instinctively knew what to do when there are potential intruders. At the piercing distress call of the parent, they would go flat against the nest and lay perfectly still. The young listened to the parents, took the cues, and obediently took cover, making themselves appear as small as possible.

There was much stretching and flapping of wings as the young eaglets developed. The two older eaglets began this stage of development earlier than Tiny did, and he often was seen sleeping alone in a corner of the nest while they flapped and hopped around. He was storing up strength to grow and catch up, and he made no attempt to imitate their behaviors. He stayed out of their way, and he was content to be himself and wait for the right timing.

Growth was very rapid. New darker feathers came in to replace the grey down. The chicks had quickly become eaglets. At one point the new feathers coming in on their wings were blood-filled, and so heavy for the eaglets that they could hardly hold them up in the folded position on their backs. They often pitched forward in a “beak plant” or fell over backwards because they were so out of proportion, ungainly and clumsy. Their feet were “too big for them” and appeared to be covered with yellow rubber gloves. They begin to explore their nest more and more, and gradually learned to pick at leftover food and grasp food or sticks, etc. with their talons. The eaglets were learning to self-feed. Tiny was the first to learn this skill, of necessity. Tiny would grab the food and run! Planting a taloned foot on the middle of the prey, he would proceed to self-feed…and the other eaglets would be begging Tiny for a snack! The parents did not intervene in the scrabbling for food, and when Tiny would “snitch” a piece, he had to quickly learn to feed it to himself by holding it down with his talons and picking at it with his beak.  The growing eaglet practiced the skills needed for hunting. He would grab a stick or a piece of food and stomp on it, learning to grasp it firmly with his talons and form a “mantle” over it so no one else could get at it.

At one point, a piece of plastic in the nest became a source of danger, as the eaglets were toying with it and trying to eat it. They would actually swallow it, and then pull it back out of their throat. It was awful to think of what the consequences of human littering could have been if it had been ingested. Observers were extremely relieved when the wind blew it away. Interestingly, the adults did not remove the object from the nest. They ignored it.

This non-intervention on the parents’ part caused Tiny to be more and more independent and self-sufficient. He knew that he could not always depend on the adults to defend or protect him during life’s traumas. He became capable of making his own way. This also prevented an inordinately strong bond from forming between parents and young, and made it easier to go forth on his own when the time came.

As the eaglets grew, they were practicing flight postures and movements more and more. Stretching tall, holding wings out and up, “flappercising”, flap-hopping, climbing up on the edge of the nest to look out on their world. I learned where the terms “out on a limb” and “branching out” came from. Restlessness and constant movement increased as the nest began to seem boring to the youngsters. The feedings became less frequent or plentiful, as the eaglets need to become slim and streamlined in order to make that first flight. They also need to be given a good reason to leave. They are induced out of the nest by hunger and parental withdrawal.

With increased “wingercising” and branching, perch displacement can easily happen. “Get off my favorite perch”, Hero seemed to say to Tiny. What first appeared to be a vicious shove off the perch for Tiny by Hero actually was a normal behavior for which the consequences could not have been forseen by the eaglet doing the shoving. It is not thought that they understand the principle of cause and effect the way humans do.

Suddenly Tiny found himself falling! He crashed downward, squealing and flapping and breaking branches all the way. The ground crew of observers soon spotted him in a tree quite a distance from the nest tree, just perching there. A stretch of the wings and other movements seemed to confirm that he was not seriously injured.

Over a grueling period of nine days, Tiny was “borne up on eagles’ wings” to a place of safety.  Does this mean a parent rescued him somehow? No. The “eagles’ wings” were his own wings, tested and strengthened to make possible the seemingly impossible feat of returning to the nest.

His Creator was with him to “bind up the brokenhearted” (Isaiah 61:1), to heal his disappointment, and restore hope to his innermost being. The Hebrew word translated brokenhearted in this scripture is shabar, an extremely vivid and powerful adjective that means maimed, crippled, wrecked, crushed, quenched, violently ruptured.

Tiny perhaps thought he was on his own, but there was always a parent nearby, just out of his sight. Eagles will feed their displaced young wherever they are, but will not “overdo it”. They actually use the driving hunger of the eaglet to force it to make the move to get back to the nest in whatever way it can. The hungry eaglet was fully able to observe his two siblings being fed and cared for by the parents in the nest, as well as at the nearby nest site from previous years. This further provoked him to persevere. He must have observed more action at the old nest site, since that is the one he finally made his appearance at. His instinctive, desperate attempt to survive continued on, sometimes “flap-hopping” from branch to branch, actually climbing with beak and feet, or achieving short flights in stages. He paused to rest when he needed to, but was constantly on the lookout for his next move. It took him nine grueling days to get back into a place of comfort and safety. The last leg of his journey to the old nest had to have been an actual flight, judging from the photos of the surrounding trees. He had fallen from the nest before his wings were ready for flight, but necessity had caused him to utilize his untested, wobbly flying abilities as much as he was able. It was necessary for survival.

Tiny and his progress were passionately pursued and cared about by hundreds of observers, but he was unaware of any of it; and most days found him looking forsaken, tired, hungry, cold, bedraggled or wet. There were several cold, rainy and windy days during this time. Observers (passionate eagle watchers) agonized over an intervention, but the best course of action proved to be NO ACTION. Nature was allowed to take its course.

Eagles instinctively will find a way to survive – if they are among the strong who are destined to survive.

Did Tiny feel like he’d been crushed because of betrayal and ruptured beyond repair because of lost dreams? Did he feel his hopes and prayers had been wrecked, and was crippled from an impossibly difficult journey? Did it seem the Lord Himself had disappointed him by abandoning him to his fate?

No. There is a spiritual boundary drawn between human beings and other forms of natural creatures, and that is the area of free will and love. While eagles do show affection in their relationships to one another, and sometimes appear to choose one way over another, these reactions are guided by instinct, not free will. They do experience fear, but it is used to trigger their self-preservation instinct. When reviled, they fight back – not necessarily against the perpetrator, but against the abuse, finding a way to diligently pursue that which is theirs. When they fall, if they are not destroyed by the experience, they are driven by instinct to struggle on and to find a remedy. Eagles are incapable of holding grudges or harboring disappointments and unforgiveness. They know when to make themselves appear small and when to make themselves appear large. They are tenacious, relentless and single-minded in their will to live. Their lives are ordered by inner, hard-wired timing, which is known instinctively.

Tiny had no options but to let go of the past and abandon himself to God’s care, for His name is “Faithful and True” (Revelation 19:11).

And neither do we. Tiny instinctively knew what he had to do, but for us it is a matter of choice. This letting go is difficult for human beings,  because we’re required not only to let go, but, in the place of what we have lost, to take hold of something new: we must learn to love again and choose to trust again—and sometimes the heart is still too wounded and hardened to be open to love. We fear that disappointment will recur again and again if we dare to press beyond our fears to venture out and restore trust. What Tiny did by his instinctive, hard-wired drives, we must accomplish by our free will choices. “And those who know Your name will put their trust in You; for You, LORD, have not forsaken those who seek You.” Psalm 9:10

For Tiny, it was a slow, agonizing journey up to the place of safety. His time of forced exile made him long for the security of familiar places. But he did not return to the “home” nest. A new safe place was seen as the goal, a nearby nest from former eagle families which the parents had restored and readied for a “feeding platform.”  His own nest had taken a beating and was the worse for wear.  His sibling, Hero, had also fallen from the home nest, taking parts of the wall with her. (She was back up inside the nest within a day because she was older, stronger and closer to fledging.) On the other hand, perhaps the other nest area was simply nearer and easier to access. Tiny saw that the place of safety, comfort and golden happy baby days was no longer a reality. He saw that a new refuge had been provided for him to shelter in. Safe at last after a harrowing unsteady flight to the top of the tree, Tiny finally fell exhausted into the old nest. I suspect that it was an act of desperation on Tiny’s part, and that he exerted every nerve, muscle, and sinew making that flight, actually flying more strongly than he was ready for, given his state of extreme hunger and exhaustion after nine days’ exile. Knowing he was in a safe place, he collapsed with relief. Very quickly, his watchful parent brought a fresh fish to the nest and fed him. He consumed it with great relish, then went flat in the center of the nest and slept. Hundreds of observers celebrated with tears of joy when he arrived safely in that nest, but Tiny was unaware.

“You dance over me when I am unaware…

You sing all around, but I never hear the sound…

Lord, I’m amazed by You…

How You love me”

“Amazed” by Desperation

The next several days were spent recuperating, stuffing his crop with food, and sleeping. Tiny became somewhat of a “cave-dweller” and enjoyed his comforts. He hardly moved at first, then gradually began to branch out again and flap his wings. He did not allow this time of quiet to become “quiet desperation”, but picked himself up and set about the business of recuperation. One time when fresh food was dropped at the nest by a parent, he was seen actually sharing it with his sibling Hero who had previously knocked him off his perch. (Hero had also been the one to rescue him from the entrapment of the twine). There seemed to be an inseparable bond between them, even during this stage when most eaglets learn to be competitive and independent, especially with their feedings. The two spent much time together in the nest while Tiny recuperated. They seemed to take turns mantling the prey dropped into the nest and consuming it. There seemed to be mutual respect and deference, now that there was not much difference in their size or position in the family. They appeared to be living in harmony with each other and to have no antagonism towards each other, in spite of past experiences…a major change in “pecking order.”

Still Tiny did not return to his former home, but quietly spent time sitting on the porch in solitude, waiting for the right time to make a move.

“The LORD will give strength to His people; the LORD will bless His people with peace.” Psalm 29:11

He greeted each sunrise with renewed hope and quietness of spirit. Unknowingly, in his stillness, Tiny was actually in the process of honing his hunting skills. Eagles are known for their watchful “biding (redeeming) of time” while waiting for their prey to make itself known. In between these long periods of watchful waiting, Tiny began to resume his sessions of wingercizes, flap-hops, flapping from branch to branch. During one such session, Tiny was out on a limb, and flapped over to a wobbly branch nearby. The branch dipped and gave way beneath his weight. He found himself accidentally airborne again, and his heart was in his throat at the triggering of his fears. But instinct took over and he spread his wings, gliding down and away across the field of hay below. Finding himself nearing the vicinity of his old home nest he landed there, circling around it after one unsuccessful attempt, and enjoyed a meal there reunited with his two siblings.

Interestingly, it was while he was on THIS nest (the home of origin) that Hero began to tease, peck and pull at Tiny as in the old days. Instead of going into a submissive mode before his tormentor, Tiny simply turned away and departed the nest again – this time of his own free will, and returned to the other nest where he resumed his restful mode. It was as if he had faced his “giants” there at the home nest, and left again for the safe place to contemplate all of life’s questions. No one forced him to stay in the home nest; and for the first time, no one forced him to leave. A milestone turning point was reached in his life that day, in my eyes.

“Now glory be to God! By His mighty power at work within us, He is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope.” Ephesians 3:20

If I hadn’t known what I did about eagle behavior being instinctive, I would have said that In the following days he appeared to treasure his solitude in the old nest. He tended to drive away his siblings and even his parents when they approached. It was as if he was still dealing with all of the ingredients and events that had come together to form the fabric of his life through the other family members, and he needed some space to come to terms with it. Before he was ready to fly off alone into his future, he seemed to have need of achieving a final release within himself. There would be a day when he would know it was  exactly the right time to leave this place of his beginnings and go soaring forth into his future, but until he was sure he remained at his post watching and waiting.

I had the privilege of observing the early life of a beautiful young eagle. The Hancock Wildlife Foundation’s website gave me a personal window into his world. In wonder and awe, I watched him develop from a hatchling to a chick, then an eaglet, a fledgling, and finally an independent juvenile eagle. Tiny’s story inspired me and changed my life forever. With an impact I have rarely felt, the Lord used him to speak deeply into my spirit. Many features of his life paralleled what I had experienced in my own life, and he taught me to trust God and choose life.

The forums, observations and discussions set up for this live webcam were incredibly fascinating. The lives of total strangers were merged by their common involvement with the eagle families being observed on this website. Beyond my expectations, I found this summer’s eagle watching experience to be life-changing.

The eagle family I observed was located in Victoria BC, Canada, Sidney Island. The nest was sponsored by David Hancock and his foundation. There was a team of dedicated volunteers who observed the nest from the ground while hundreds of us observed it by webcam. The “family” of observers shared observations, photos, videos, and friendly chat. There were a few times when passions ran strong and we felt our stresses, such as the day Tiny fell from the nest. All was dissolved in tears of joy when the situation resolved. I believe that many of us will return to the forums and reconnect, even when the eagles have migrated north, never again to be seen together as a family unit.

As for me, I have come away from this experience with a renewed sense of hope and trust in God that He is indeed aware of every moment of every struggle, and that His plan for me is good. While I still do not know what my next step will be, or the timing of it, I am far more able, like Tiny, to sit quietly at my post watching and waiting.

“You will restore me and make me live…” –Isaiah 38:16

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD…”   — Jeremiah 29:11-14

Laboring diligently all winter to prepare a safe haven for their coming family, the Sidney eagle pair constructed a home with sturdily woven stick walls and a good bowl indentation to contain the coming eggs and the developing chicks. They chose a site with adequate cover, and lots of surrounding branches for the young to explore when learning to fly. Soft grasses lined the bowl for comfort. It was situated high in the sturdy branches of a towering tree in the same area in which this pair had nested in previous years, and it was virtually impregnable with the parents there to protect. None of their preparations are haphazard. Their devotion was meticulous.

Three eggs were laid in March. Nothing could keep the mother eagle from her faithful brooding, watching and waiting, so strong was her instinct for preservation of the specie. Those eggs were precious in her sight– the promise of new life – and they were never out of her sight or left alone and vulnerable to either the elements or predators. They were kept covered and safe, even during a late spring snowstorm. Mother eagle gently rolled the eggs from time to time for even distribution of warmth, and patiently waited for the chicks to hatch. Father eagle went hunting and brought Mother her meals. This was the second clutch of three eggs in a row produced by this pair of eagles. It is far more common to see two eggs.

Breeze hatched first, followed closely by Hero. Tiny did not emerge until over a week later, when his siblings had already begun to grow. The first independent act of the chick was to use his “egg tooth” and fight his way out of the confines of the egg. The chick was offered no assistance, and left to struggle his way out of the shell. The only encouragement I observed was that when the mother observed that his pushing against the egg appeared to grow feeble, she would look down and gently nudge the breaking shell with her beak so that the baby would push back and renew his efforts. If the parents were to “help” him hatch, they would be hindering him by preventing him from developing the necessary strength, will and ability needed for his survival and development. Mother looked on and was right there to protect him. The parents took turns protecting the hatchlings; one remained brooding on the nest while the other went out to hunt for food for them.

The three tiny, down-covered grey chicks spent most of their time eating or sleeping beneath the breast feathers of the brooding parent. Brooding is such a protective posture. It is used in warming, protection from rain or wind, and comfort. The mother eagle became a “Mombrella” in the rain and a windbreak when blustery winds threatened to blow the tiny chicks from their nest. All three babies were able to squeeze in beneath her sheltering “mantle” with ease.

The parents took turns feeding the young. The one whose turn it was to be the hunter brought fish, small mammals, birds or rodents to the one who was sitting. One or both parents carefully shredded the prey to just the right size bites for the tiny chicks to eat. Full crops made for happy naptimes within the encircling warmth of soft parental feathers. They would eat and be filled, and then collapse into a food-induced comatose state. They would lie flat in the nest, thus we called them “flatlets.”

As they grew, the chicks spent a bit more time alone on their secluded nest while both parents hunted for an ever increasing amount of food necessary to keep their young ones satisfied. They ate voraciously and grew by as much as a half inch a week in wingspan. The “fuzzlets” huddled together, often snuggling as they napped. When they were awake, they were actively exploring their nest surroundings and volleying for position nearest the incoming meals. They were seen chasing bugs, playing with sticks, and acting like curious toddlers.

Sibling rivalry soon developed in the eagle family and events took a nasty turn. The older, larger chicks began bullying Tiny, pecking him viciously or driving him away. Tiny was forced into submission, and nearly pushed off the nest several times. He had hatched last and was much smaller than Breeze and Hero. They took dominance over him, preventing him from getting fed, or snatching food from him. Tiny did not fight back, but learned quickly to go into a submissive position to prevent further abuse and protect himself. His parents did not stop this treatment, but left him to fend for himself.

Sometimes eaglets actually kill the smaller, weaker nestmate; and even then, the parents do not step in to prevent it. Nature appears cruel and cold at times, and it is all about the survival of the fittest. The smaller and weaker are forced to either give up or take action, a “fight or flight” reaction.

 Tiny learned to sneak in and snatch food quickly from behind, beneath, and between the other hungry eaglets. He often got pecked in the head or beaked in the neck or wing doing this, but he was not deterred. I would laugh when Ma would bring in supper and Tiny would go in under her belly and pop out near her beak… where Hero would never attempt to peck Tiny! Brilliant move! He was learning to be tough and tenacious. He began to grow, but was still undersized and often sat alone with a submissive, head-down, forlorn demeanor. I remember thinking that Tiny would be a wonderful parent some day. He had struggled through so much adversity and had found a way to make life work. For awhile he was so much smaller and so ill treated it did not appear he would survive, but somehow he turned the corner, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Tiny had developed an amazing will to live. Survival instinct was strong in him, and he stubbornly held his own, even amidst the most adverse conditions. He inspired me, in the face of some of my own most difficult life experiences, to choose life and to move forward.

With one of the food deliveries and feeding times, a snarl of orange baling twine or weed whip line made its appearance in the nest. This was a source of great danger to the chicks. They could so easily become entangled and trapped in it and be unable to get free of it. To my horror, Tiny became entangled when a loop of this twine encircled his leg! He struggled and struggled to get free, but was tethered fast to one side of the nest and couldn’t reach the food that had been brought in. He lay down in frustration and exhaustion. Soon, Hero came close to him. Tiny went into his submissive mode, but didn’t flinch when she began to pick at the string with her beak. Tiny was rescued by the sibling who had formerly attacked him the most. Fighting his instinct to pull away, he held his foot still and allowed the larger eaglet to remove the loop of string. Then she walked away from him peacefully. When Tiny got up, he was able to lift his foot from the confines of the loop. The “horrible orange twine”, as we dubbed it, did not disappear from the nest, but the eaglets actually learned to avoid it.  From that point on, it seemed Hero and Tiny were the best of friends, and often shared their food and body warmth. (This episode was how Hero got her name.)

The young eaglets instinctively knew what to do when there are potential Intruders. At the piercing distress call of the parent, they would go flat against the nest and lay perfectly still. The young listened to the parents, took the cues, and obediently took cover, making themselves appear as small as possible.

There was much stretching and flapping of wings as the young eaglets developed. The two older eaglets began this stage of development earlier than Tiny did, and he often was seen sleeping alone in a corner of the nest while they flapped and hopped around. He was storing up strength to grow and catch up, and he made no attempt to imitate their behaviors. He stayed out of their way, and he was content to be himself and wait for the right timing.

Growth was very rapid. New darker feathers came in to replace the grey down. The chicks had quickly become eaglets. At one point the new feathers coming in on their wings were blood-filled, and so heavy for the eaglets that they could hardly hold them up in the folded position on their backs. They often pitched forward in a “beak plant” or fell over backwards because they were so out of proportion, ungainly and clumsy. Their feet were “too big for them” and appeared to be covered with yellow rubber gloves. They begin to explore their nest more and more, and gradually learned to pick at leftover food and grasp food or sticks, etc. with their talons. The eaglets were learning to self-feed. Tiny was the first to learn this skill, of necessity. Tiny would grab the food and run! Planting a taloned foot on the middle of the prey, he would proceed to self-feed…and the other eaglets would be begging Tiny for a snack! The parents did not intervene in the scrabbling for food, and when Tiny would “snitch” a piece, he had to quickly learn to feed it to himself by holding it down with his talons and picking at it with his beak.  The growing eaglet practiced the skills needed for hunting. He would grab a stick or a piece of food and stomp on it, learning to grasp it firmly with his talons and form a “mantle” over it so no one else could get at it.

At one point, a piece of plastic in the nest became a source of danger, as the eaglets were toying with it and trying to eat it. They would actually swallow it, and then pull it back out of their throat. It was awful to think of what the consequences of human littering could have been if it had been swallowed. Observers were extremely relieved when the wind blew it away. Interestingly, the adults did not remove the object from the nest. They ignored it.

This non-intervention on the parents’ part caused Tiny to be more and more independent and self-sufficient. He knew that he could not always depend on the adults to defend or protect him during life’s traumas. He became capable of making his own way. This also prevented an inordinately strong bond from forming between parents and young, and made it easier to go forth on his own when the time came.

As the eaglets grew, they were practicing flight postures and movements more and more. Stretching tall, holding wings out and up, flappercising, flap-hopping, climbing up on the edge of the nest to look out on their world. I learned where the terms “Out on a limb” and “Branching out” came from. Restlessness and constant movement increased as the nest began to seem boring to the youngsters. The feedings became less frequent or plentiful, as the eaglets need to become slim and streamlined in order to make that first flight. They also need to be given a good reason to leave. They are induced out of the nest by hunger and parental withdrawal.

With increased wingercising and branching, perch displacement can easily happen. “Get off my favorite perch”, Hero seemed to say to Tiny. What first appeared to be a vicious shove off the perch for Tiny by Hero actually could have been a normal behavior for which the consequences could not have been forseen by the eaglet doing the shoving. It is not thought that they understand cause and effect the way humans do.

Suddenly Tiny found himself falling! He crashed downward, squealing and flapping and breaking branches all the way. The ground crew of observers soon spotted him in a tree quite a distance from the nest tree, just perching there. A stretch of the wings and other movements seemed to confirm that he was not seriously injured.

Over a grueling period of nine days, Tiny was “borne up on eagles’ wings” to a place of safety.  Does this mean a parent rescued him somehow? No. The “eagles’ wings” were his own wings, tested and strengthened to make possible the seemingly impossible feat of returning to the nest.

His Creator was with him to “bind up the brokenhearted” (Isaiah 61:1), to heal his disappointment, and restore hope to his innermost being. The Hebrew word translated brokenhearted in this scripture is shabar, an extremely vivid and powerful adjective that means maimed, crippled, wrecked, crushed, quenched, violently ruptured.

Tiny perhaps thought he was on his own, but there was always a parent nearby, just out of his sight. Eagles will feed their displaced young wherever they are, but will not “overdo it”. They actually use the driving hunger of the eaglet to force it to make the move to get back to the nest in whatever way it can. The hungry eaglet was fully able to observe his two siblings being fed and cared for by the parents in the nest, as well as at the nearby nest site from previous years. This further provoked him to persevere. He must have observed more action at the old nest site, since that is the one he finally made his appearance at. His instinctive, desperate attempt to survive continued on, sometimes “flap-hopping” from branch to branch, actually climbing with beak and feet, or achieving short flights in stages. He paused to rest when he needed to, but was constantly on the lookout for his next move. It took him nine grueling days to get back into a place of comfort and safety. The last leg of his journey to the old nest had to have been an actual flight, judging from the photos of the surrounding trees. He had fallen from the nest before his wings were ready for flight, but necessity had caused him to utilize his untested, wobbly flying abilities as much as he was able. It was necessary for survival.

Tiny and his progress were passionately pursued and cared about by hundreds of observers, but he was unaware of any of it; and most days found him looking forsaken, tired, hungry, cold, bedraggled or wet. There were several cold, rainy and windy days during this time. Observers (passionate eagle watchers) agonized over an intervention, but the best course of action proved to be NO ACTION. Nature was allowed to take its course. (Lamentations 3:23)! Great is His faithfulness!

Eagles instinctively will find a way to survive – if they are among the strong who are destined to survive.

Did Tiny feel like he’d been crushed because of betrayal and ruptured beyond repair because of lost dreams? Did he feel his hopes and prayers had been wrecked, and was crippled from an impossibly difficult journey? Did it seem the Lord Himself has disappointed him by abandoning him to his fate?

No. There is a spiritual boundary drawn between human beings and other forms of natural creatures, and that is the area of free will and love. While eagles do show affection in their relationships to one another, and sometimes appear to choose one way over another, these reactions are guided by instinct, not free will. They do experience fear, but it is used to trigger their self-preservation instinct. When reviled, they fight back – not necessarily against the perpetrator, but against the abuse, finding a way to diligently pursue that which is theirs. When they fall, if they are not destroyed by the experience, they are driven by instinct to struggle on and to find a remedy. Eagles are incapable of holding grudges or harboring disappointments and unforgiveness. They know when to make themselves appear small and when to make themselves appear large. They are tenacious, relentless and single-minded in their will to live. Their lives are ordered by inner, hard-wired timing, which is known instinctively.

Tiny had no options but to let go of the past and abandon himself to God’s care, for His name is “Faithful and True” (Revelation 19:11). And neither do we. Tiny instinctively knew what he had to do, but for us it is a matter of choice. This letting go is difficult for human beings,  because we’re required not only to let go, but, in the place of what we have lost, to take hold of something new: we must learn to love again and choose to trust again—and sometimes the heart is still too wounded and hardened to be open to love. We fear that disappointment will recur again and again if we dare to press beyond our fears to venture out and trust again. What Tiny did by his instinctive, hard-wired drives, we must accomplish by our free will choices. “And those who know Your name will put their trust in You; for You, LORD, have not forsaken those who seek You.” Psalm 9:10

For Tiny, It was a slow, agonizing journey up to the place of safety. His time of forced exile made him long for the security of familiar places. But he did not return to the “home” nest. A new safe place was seen as the goal, a nearby nest from former eagle families which the parents had restored and readied for a “feeding platform.”  His own nest had taken a beating and was the worse for wear. Perhaps the other nest area was simply nearer and easier to access. His sibling, Hero, had also fallen from the home nest, taking parts of the wall with her. (She was back up inside the nest within a day because she was older, stronger and closer to fledging.) Tiny saw that the place of safety, comfort and golden happy baby days was no longer a reality. He saw that a new refuge had been provided for him to shelter in. Safe at last after a harrowing unsteady flight to the top of the tree, Tiny finally fell exhausted into the old nest. I suspect that it was an act of desperation on Tiny’s part, and that he exerted every nerve, muscle, and sinew making that flight, actually flying more strongly than he was ready for, given his state of extreme hunger and exhaustion after nine days’ exile. Knowing he was in a safe place, he collapsed with relief. Very quickly, his watchful parent brought a fresh fish to the nest and fed him. He consumed it with great relish, then went flat in the center of the nest and slept. Hundreds of observers celebrated with tears of joy when he arrived safely in that nest, but Tiny was unaware.

“You dance over me when I am unaware…

You sing all around, but I never hear the sound…

Lord, I’m amazed by You…

How You love me”

“Amazed” by Desperation

The next several days were spent recuperating, stuffing his crop with food, and sleeping. Tiny became somewhat of a “cave-dweller” and enjoyed his comforts. He hardly moved at first, then gradually began to branch out again and flap his wings. He did not allow this time of quiet to become “quiet desperation”, but picked himself up and set about the business of recuperation. One time when fresh food was dropped at the nest by a parent, he was seen actually sharing it with his sibling Hero who had knocked him off his perch. (Hero had also been the one to rescue him from the entrapment of the twine). There seemed to be an inseparable bond between them, even during this stage when most eaglets learn to be competitive and independent, especially with their feeding. The two spent much time together in the nest while Tiny recuperated. They seemed to take turns mantling the prey dropped into the nest and consuming it. There seemed to be mutual respect and deference, now that there was not much difference in their size or position in the family. They appeared to be living in harmony with each other and to have no antagonism towards each other, in spite of past experiences…a major change in “pecking order.”

Still Tiny did not return to his former home, but quietly spent time sitting on the porch in solitude, waiting for the right time to make a move.

“The LORD will give strength to His people;

The LORD will bless His people with peace.” Psalm 29:11

He greeted each sunrise with renewed hope and quietness of spirit. Unknowingly, in his stillness, Tiny was actually in the process of honing his hunting skills. Eagles are known for their watchful “biding (redeeming) of time” while waiting for their prey to make itself known. In between these long periods of watchful waiting, Tiny began to resume his sessions of wingercizes, flap-hops, flapping from branch to branch. During one such session, Tiny was out on a limb, and flapped over to a wobbly branch nearby. The branch dipped and gave way beneath his weight. He found himself accidentally airborne again, and his heart was in his throat at the triggering of his fears. But instinct took over and he spread his wings, gliding down and away across the field of hay below. Finding himself nearing the vicinity of his old home nest he landed there, circling around it after one unsuccessful attempt, and enjoyed a meal there reunited with his two siblings.

Interestingly, it was while he was on THIS nest (the home of origin) that Hero began to tease, peck and pull at Tiny as in the old days. Instead of going into a submissive mode before his tormentor, Tiny simply turned away and departed the nest again – this time of his own free will, and returned to the other nest where he resumed his restful mode. It was as if he had faced his “giants” there at the home nest, and left again for the safe place to contemplate all of life’s questions. No one forced him to stay in the home nest; and for the first time, no one forced him to leave. A milestone turning point was reached in his life that day, in my eyes.

“Now glory be to God!

By His mighty power at work within us,

He is able to accomplish infinitely more

than we would ever dare to ask or hope.”Ephesians 3:20

If I hadn’t known what I did about eagle behavior being instinctive, I would have said that In the following days he appeared to treasure his solitude in the old nest. He tended to drive away his siblings and even his parents when they approached. It was as if he was still dealing with all of the ingredients and events that had come together to form the course of his life through the other family members, and he needed some space to come to terms with it. Before he was ready to fly off alone into his future, he seemed to hav need of achieving a final release within himself. There would be a day when he would know it was the exact right time to leave this place of his beginnings and go forth into his future, but until he was sure he remained at his post watching and waiting.

A fisherman hooks a tiny sunfish that is too small to keep, but it has swallowed the hook. Is his life wasted when he is tossed back into the lake in a dying state?

An osprey swoops down from soaring heights and snatches the fish from the surface of the lake.

In God’s nature, when one creature dies, another creature lives. It is nesting season, and the osprey has hungry growing chicks to feed. The life of the little sunfish is given to enhance the growth of the needy osprey chicks.

Crash! The shattered pottery shards bounced across the concrete floor. Smash! Brown and white “Angel of Joy” mingled with red from the ceramic cup that said “Joy”. Broken beyond repair, destroyed, forever fragmented rubble was all that remained of two lovely pieces that once ornamented my home. One piece didn’t shatter enough to satisfy my need, so I picked it up and launched it a second time, with all my might, against the concrete. Good! This time there was nothing left of it. Pulverized! I cut my finger in the process, but I didn’t care. The sense of release was liberating. The shedding of my blood seemed appropriate.

This morning—Good Friday—the last remaining closed-up-to-treasure room in my house of dreams was jerked open, only to reveal that instead of the hope I had thought was safe inside, it was empty. It wasn’t really destroyed today, but today it died within my spirit because today was the day that brutal truth and reality crowded out my remaining illusions. All of the romantic sweet notions tucked away there, of blossoming love based on purity and innocence, were shattered like those ceramics I slammed to the floor this morning. Gifts given in deceit, I could no longer tolerate their presence in my home. Broken joy. That’s what lay on the garage floor. The angel who had scriptures about joy adorning her, and the Christmas mug that brazenly said JOY –gifts given by one pretending to be my friend.

My prayers had been wrongly prayed. I had been praying for joy and love to be restored—Today I found that there is nothing to which this painful situation can BE restored. It was all a façade! Now it ALL lies dead. There is no hope.

“…All the king’s horses and all the king’s men could never put Humpty together again…”

The path up to the cross was very steep for me today. I had to put on my ipod with worship music playing as loud as my ears could take, just to close out the vile, devilish images that kept intruding. Though the sun was shining on a beautiful spring day, the darkness was intense around my soul. So many lies. So much hurt. So much betrayal. So much deception. Now, no nice beginning to be restored back to. Rage was rising up in me.

Gradually the words of the songs from my blaring ipod penetrated my swirling, almost out of control thought patterns. Jesus…the Blood of Calvary…GRACE…undeserved forgiveness…Jesus saw my sin when He allowed them to press the crown of thorns into His head…He bore my sin upon the nails. No sin was hidden from His vision at that moment. He absorbed it all. My sins are heinous, and all cost the Savior His life. His heart broke today with mine, as the last bit of hope I was clinging to was shattered. I think I had to come to the place of death, the end of myself.

The Blood of Christ cleanses all of us from ALL unrighteousness. The sprinkling of Blood is for a cleansed conscience, and the body is washed with pure water of the Word. All we have to do is ask. ALL appears to be dark and dead and hopeless. Oh yes, it is Good Friday. Death seems to have won the victory. How very dark and final and hopeless.

BUT SUNDAY IS COMING! Faith will not let me give up hope!

The only path from here leads upwards. If I can see clearly enough to receive this awesome gift of forgiveness, then I must be willing to extend it to others who, like myself, do not deserve or merit it.

The Lord will do so much more than restore the heart to a former place of beauty that only existed in my foolish dreams. He will create a new place that is far better than my dreams, even in my wildest imagination.

The mug and the angel, lie-gifts that they were, were so totally pulverized and scattered that there was no way to ever put them back together in their former beautiful state. They were good for nothing but to be swept up and tossed in the trash. They will not—cannot—be restored. They have to be replaced.

God will create new life out of the death of dreams and visions. “Behold, I make all things NEW!”

A tried and tested trooper (some would call it an obnoxious weed…), Creeping Charlie shoves its way right on up through the strongest of obstacles, finding its way to the light of day through the tiniest of cracks in the crust of the rock. Showing its seemingly frail face to the sun, it even manages to display delicate flowers which are producing seeds, fulfilling the promise of perpetuation despite every attempt to thwart its success.

On my walk through the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, I couldn’t help but notice this tiny treasure, even though all around me were much more brilliant specimens of the garden’s grandest glories. What made it stand out to me? Its leaves were no larger than the nail on my pinky, and I needed to bow low in order to appreciate the miniature petals of its humble blooms. Just the fact that it had successfully pushed its way into the world through the cracks in the rocks made me take notice–here was profound GodSpeak–through the humblest and most miniature of means…

I had been enduring a time of painful change and difficult obstacles in my God-journey. There were times when I had felt so oppressed and cut off from the land of the living, that I didn’t think it was possible to push my way through the rock beneath which I had been buried. Just when it seemed I would have to give up and succumb to the utter impossibility, a shaft of light came piercing through an infinitesimal crack in the barrier. Hope was reborn! I leaned toward the Source and strove forward, finding that an unseen Holy Impetus was propelling me upward, and I discovered that I would not die, but live–to tell the world of the glories of God. What was impossible for me in my weakness was accomplished by the strength of the Savior.

” The right hand of the Lord is exalted; the right hand of the Lord does valiantly. I SHALL NOT DIE, BUT LIVE, and declare the works of the Lord. The Lord has chastened me severely, but He has not given me over to death. Open to me the gates of righteousness; I will go through them, and I will praise the Lord. This is the gate of the Lord, through which the righteous shall enter. I will praise You, for You have answered me, and have become my salvation. The stone which the builders have rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This was the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118: 16-24)

No matter how dark the night, or how hopelessly deep the freeze of winter, somehow Spring always miraculously shows her face. Tentatively at first, she peeks up through the snow and ice and stretches to find the sun.

Beneath the icy shroud of snow, the Japanese Spurge is one who stays green and alive all winter, though hidden to the eye. The freezing snow blanket which seems to smother everything in sight, has actually been protecting her from the brunt of the elements, and she waits patiently hidden under the dead oak leaves of a forgotten summer, until the warmth and light of the sun beckon her. Then she takes up right where she left off when the frost came, growing, spreading, blooming.

The milkweed takes up the cloak of death, which she wears all winter long, braving the elements, trembling in the cold wind. Hidden within her pods are thousands of seeds, lined up at attention in perfect rows and formations, awaiting the promise of new life for the following season. When the moment arrives, she releases her seeds, propelling them off into the spring breeze like  a battalion of paratroopers, borne to diverse destinations. There are enough silk-sailed seeds within just one pod to populate a jungle of Monarch habitat. After granting her generous gift of life-promise, death’s cloak gently takes down the old plant and pod, merging them with the rich soil beneath, to nurture the emergence of a new generation. Another cycle of life begins–new, yet ancient.

It has been a long, dark, cold winter here in Minnesota, and here in my heart. I long for the time for change and new growth to be made manifest. I stretch toward the Son. This winter has been so incredibly harsh…is it possible that all hope for resurrection is to be abandoned? Is there still some tenacious remnant of life lingering amongst the dead leaves littering my spirit? Just when I think that quite possibly the end has come, out pop the spurge and the milkweed. The miracle of Spring cannot be prevented or long delayed.

Hope Springs! To God be the Glory!

(About these photos: This is my favorite tree, photographed at all four seasons. By comparing the size of the small evergreens to the right of the tree, I can determine the order in which the photos were taken: Summer, Winter, Fall, Spring. This beautiful tree, which has withstood damaging storms and city construction all around, stands like a sentinel on a busy corner which was once a peaceful prairie. The Spring photo shows that a large part of the tree was lost in a storm.)

Just as surely as God created the four seasons with all of their breathtaking varieties of beauty, sound, scent, texture, and taste–so He has graced His Kingdom with the indescribably lovely gift of precious women for all seasons — in every age group, of all manner of personality types, and individually equipped with the gifts and workings of His Holy Spirit.

SPRING… The branch is bare, but warmed by hope and promise, showing only the hopeful buds of the new life which will soon burst forth. Spring displays the palest of green, yellow and peach hues against pastel blue sky, scented with gentle breezes and showers. Days become longer, the sun begins to wake up all the sleeping nature around her.

The Spring of womanhood is marked by the freshness of newborn babes, the exuberance and carefree abandon of childhood, the searchings of adolescence …excitement …vision …energy.

Spring is busily planting seeds into the garden of life, with the hope and promise that the fruit will be nurtured and gathered later. Spring has faith in the promises of Summer and Autumn. Spring is the time for planting!

SUMMER…The branch has brought forth abundant new life, covered with foliage and bloom — bearing seed, growing, multiplying. Every color of the rainbow is bursting forth riotously against rich blue or cloud studded skies. The heat and light of the sun are intense, and daylight stretches later.

Summer has a richness of expression… multitudes of purpose …many different blossoms …myriad voices …heady intoxicating fragrances. Summer is marked by a luxurious tapestry of gifts, constant activity and abundant life flowing and buzzing about in every direction.

Summer is busily watering, weeding and tending the garden that Spring planted. Summer is the time for nurturing!

AUTUMN… The branch bears the most vibrant colors of all the seasons, and then distributes its glory into the waiting world. Mellow gold and all of its seasoned counterparts stand in contrast against a deeper, more intense blue sky than any other season. Rainy days are washed with water-color skies punctuated with v’s of migrating flocks of birds. Warm tangy days abound alongside clear nights with a definite chill in the air, reminding and warning of the deep freeze to come. Autumn sunshine adds a magnificent polish to her profuse palette, and her warmth is a tenacious treasure that will soon fade away.

Autumn is reaching back to Spring and Summer, adding character to the life which has been produced and nurtured, and reaching ahead toward winter to add warmth and sustenance.

Autumn is reaping the garden that Spring planted and Summer tended, and working to store its bounty in provision for Winter. Autumn is the time for harvesting!

WINTER… The branch is now bare and bleak, whipped about by frigid stinging wind, yet adorned with the purest white crystal beauty of frost and snow against intense icy blue skies, or softened by the diffused light of snow laden clouds.  It feels better now to sit and toast oneself by the fire than to rush about outdoors, although there is much richness to be found outdoors also. The fading memories of former warmth are kept alive by the shorter rays of Winter’s sunlight, just enough to give renewed hope for resurrection.

Winter’s hands are never idle …always creative …handcrafting warm wear for others …folded in prayer …keeping the home fires burning …engaged in the redemptive work of the Lord.

Winter is sustaining herself upon the benefits from the garden that Spring planted, Summer tended, and Autumn harvested. Winter grows full and rich and mature from the ample bounty of the harvest of a lifetime of diligence. The branch that appears to be barren is actually storing the energy which will be passed on to a new beginning, a new Spring, a full cycle of life. Winter is the time for sharing warmth and wisdom!

What season are you in?

Are you a young adult, standing at the threshold straining to go forward? You are Spring! You are going forth bearing precious seed. Plant it! You can trust and hope in Summer to help you give birth to your dreams. You can trust Autumn for augmentation, and you can trust Winter for wisdom.

Are you a mother of new babies and growing children, or a growing career …so occupied, so involved in “abundant life” that it makes your head spin at times? You are Summer! You need the stability and wisdom of your older sisters around you who have been at the place you now are in. Reach out and connect! You too can trust Autumn and Winter for support and wisdom, as well as Spring for enthusiasm, optimism and energy.

Are you an “empty nester”, searching for renewed purpose in your life, feeling tugged and pulled in aconflicting directions supporting and helping the younger generation as well as the older generation around you — at times not knowing yet “what you want to be when you grow up”? You are Autumn. You are harvesting the bounty of the years of dreaming and planting.  You are a provider, stocking up the pantry and laying in supplies for the long winter ahead. You need to lean on Winter for wisdom and stability (even while you are helping her to rest in provision); and you need to gather energy and hope from Spring; and soak up life from Summer (even while you are supporting her, sometimes even caring for her children). To whom do YOU turn? …To the Lord God Almighty — and to each other!

Are you an elderly woman? Perhaps a widow? (But winter comes at many ages…) Are you feeling lonely and alone, and at times that you are no longer of value? Oh, may God show you that you are the most precious of all, for wisdom has been gathered and is stored up within you, waiting to be shared. You can depend on Spring to lend you her energy and hope; on Summer to warm you and lighten your darkness; and on Autumn to gather in the harvest and provide for your needs. And you are needed! You are Mothers and Grandmothers in the Kingdom of God. God’s grace is welling up within you, ready to overflow.

We all need each other. We need to pull together and glean from each other the richness inherent in all of the seasons of life. Never before in history have women been pulled simultaneously in so many different directions, forced to juggle education, marriage, parenthood, career, ministry, friendships, extended family responsibilities and relationships. And there is often no opportunity for “debriefing”  before proceeding from one role to another. Indeed the seasons quite often usurp each other’s boundaries.

Let the women of the Kingdom of God grow together, drawing devotedly to our divine Lord, bonded securely hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, bearing the load together, sharing the joys and rewards together. No one should embark on this journey through the cycles of life all alone. Reach out. Your sisters will respond.

Each season, along with every other, makes up the complete circle of the fullness of life, upon which the sun continually casts hope for renewal, resurrection and redemption.

“But unto you that fear My name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth…” (Malachi 4:2)

“While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.” (Genesis 8:22)

Does God speak at the Mall of America? I say YES! Loudly and clearly!

We chose Sunday, March 8 to visit. Our grandchildren had recently all been taken to the aquarium by their uncle (my son), and had specially enjoyed watching the sharks. So, we were inspired to go see what had been so pleasing to them. There was also more snow in the forecast, and this was a good way to ignore it.

The Mall of America (largest mall in the country, and one of Minneapolis’ main tourist attractions) is within 50 miles of our home; yet we have only been there two or three times, one of which was a Christmas outing. I was gloriously inspired to photograph the spectacular holiday lights and displays as we walked the gigantic complex. Today, even without the special interest and appeal of holiday lighting, I was equally enthralled with the architecture, color, lines, texture, design, motion, and perfect diffused lighting from overhead skylights;  and generally speaking, just the abundant  bustling life of this place. Everywhere I turned was another exciting composition just waiting to be captured. It was “eye candy” as my friend Donna would say. Above is a collage of some of my favorite shots. We walked two of the three levels of the mall (skipping the third level because of sore feet); in addition to the Underwater Adventures Aquarium beneath the complex. The extensive aquarium is intersected by clear observation tunnels through which you walk while the fish and sea creatures swim all around and above you. It is an outstanding exhibit.

When you walk this mall, you are circling the huge central amusement park, Nickelodeon Universe. As someone who gets motion sickness just from watching others enjoy the rides, I am just a contented observer. 

Every inch of space is wisely planned for optimum use. The Mall also includes a giant LegoLand exhibit, a stage  and seating for live entertainment, ice cream shoppes, coffee shoppes, chocolate shoppes, an extensive food court, and many restaurants (including the fascinating Rain Forest Cafe which is entered through an archway which is an aquarium of tropical fish. There are arcade game areas, and a racetrack simulator, among many other opportunities for activity and fun.

We love to stroll through the specialty shops, especially the “brain stores” as I call them – places to discover exciting new challenges which our incredibly intelligent grandchildren could conquer.

We came away without spending much money.  This time, we noticed the glaring absence of shopping bags burdening the multitude of mall-walkers. In this economy, most people seemed to be enjoying  the Mall of America as a tourist attraction, and not doing a whole lot spending.

Adjacent to the Mall of America is the Waterpark of America, a huge complex of water slides, wave pools, etc. which is joined to a hotel. We have not been there, but some of our children and grandchildren have enjoyed it. That is another excursion for another day.

So…you might ask, “How is it that you can say God speaks at the Mall of America?”

Through the beauty of the place…through the sea of humanity of a great many ethnicities and nationalities flowing through the walkways…through the faces of babies and children I observed, wishing I was bold (or sneaky) enough to photograph freely…through the pleasure of spending an afternoon enjoying the company of  the man I love…My senses are on “overload” and I thank God for the infinite variety of ways that He does speak to me and make Himself known.

 

On September 12, 2001, the day after the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, new life and hope emerged in my garden.

What a day–of all days–for me to witness renewal and resurrection.

As I write this, March 1, 2009, it is another day for the dawning of new hope. It has been a daunting task for me to write about hope, these days, while I have been struggling with anxiety and depression. There hasn’t seemed to be much coming forth in the way of hope lately. 

This morning we meditated upon Job 42, which shows how Job cried out to the Lord in discovery and repentance, “I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You. You asked, ‘Who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?‘ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know…I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You. Therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”

I have learned that it is OK to vent all my feelings to God, since He is completely in understanding of me since He is my creator and knows me from the inside out. There inside my soul, He saw the need I had to express my pain, disappointment, confusion, loneliness, rejection, and all of the negativity that goes with these, and I have given myself permission to speak freely to Him.

But it is NOT OK for me to hide counsel without knowledge (vs. 3). What does this mean? The Living Bible says, “to use your ignorance to deny [God's] providence,”  or to “foolishly deny [God's] providence.” It is to presume, in my ignorance of God’s ways, that I can know how or why God does things; and to presume that what is within my frame of reference or scope of vision is the sum total of all that there is. Such presumptive, self-centered thinking causes an enlarged emphasis on self–what I see and what I believe become all-consuming. Like a child who covers her eyes with her hand and then assumes that because she cannot see others they can’t see her, I believe selfishly that just because I am unable to see or sense a thing, it doesn’t exist.

This causes me to be as bound as the pupa locked within the limits of the chrysalis, unaware of the glorious life that awaits beyond the prison walls. Like the helplessly trapped pupa, I am limited to chrysalis living when there is a whole scope of new existence and experience awaiting which I have not yet perceived, and therefore have no hope or belief that it exists. Scripture says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” Whether that hope is robbed away by someone else’s actions, or destroyed by my own actions makes no difference. It is dead, deferred, sightless–and my heart becomes sick.

Big me, little God.

An enlarged vision of God brings a reduced vision of self: my rights, my privileges, my experiences. An enlarged vision of God comes only through encounter with the Living God. Hope reborn produces life and health, freedom from the confines of the chrysalis.

I wonder if the larva knew that he had a future. He hatched from his egg with an appetite, and proceeded to consume everything he had access to that would help him grow. He had no concept of what goal he was growing towards, he just knew he was insatiably hungry. He grew and grew, and then one day he lost his drive to eat. He lost his hope. He formed about himself a wrapping, graveclothes, ropes and bindings and just enclosed himself in darkness. He thought, “This is all there is. It is finished, I am done.” In darkness he hid away and lay dormant as if dead, until one day a strange stirring began deep within his being. He felt just the slightest urge to move, and when he tried, he found himself unable to push against the constraints of the chrysalis. For the enclosed pupa, there is no choice to be made, and his behavior is instinctive, planted within him by his creator; whereas man is given the gift of free will and choices. The pupa follows the steps of the age-old dance of metamorphosis, and emerges from the chrysalis a totally changed creature who has an entire new environment to explore now that he has wings to fly instead of his former earth-bound ways.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen…” (Hebrews 11:1)  …and feelings not felt…

Scripture’s great captains of Faith ”… died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth…seek[ing] a homeland…now they desire a better, that is a heavenly country. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.” (13-16)

When I am bound up in my own chrysalis of despair, my view is limited to its constricting bounds. I cannot see beyond where I am at that moment.

If I have amply fed upon the provisions of God during the times of plenty (in the pilgrimage towards this place), I should now have some reserve, something to fall back on–right??  Not necessarily. Even the brook of provision parches in protracted days of drought, and all known resources seem to fail. This is death, to be sure. I have become totally helpless to go forward in any capacity…unless…GOD intervenes to restore my life and hope and set me free.

Hope is having my eyes upon His intervention and His help and His provision, though I can see nothing. There are precious provisions which have been laid up for my use in such times as these, which I am totally unable to sense or see.  Only as I surrender to HIM from within my prison chrysalis, the walls will become transparent and then begin to crack open; and I am carried forth into an encounter with Life. Hope, like faith, is a gift which must be received by grace, and by choice.

Little me, big GOD.

Just like the newly emerged butterfly, I must undergo a time of total vulnerability as I wait upon God for the strength to carry me into my new life. The butterfly comes forth laden with moisture, and it must hang motionless from a branch while its wings dry completely before it is able to take flight. I must wait upon the Lord as well for strength and direction and equipping, while trusting Him for protection until I am ready to fly onward and upward into my new calling in Him.