Evening Song

Again, it is evening. Again, I sit writing. I wonder to myself as to why I write at night.

Is it because the night is quiet? All the house has gone to sleep?

Faintly in the distance, through my closed window, crickets sing. The fortitude of the crickets amazes me. Their tiny little selves make such a loud noise. They say only male crickets can sing. I wonder why. There was a little fellow in our hallway the other week, he was singing so loud, I could hardly think. It's nice to know that he was a fellow, it seems I am forever referring to something as a 'he' or 'she' and being completely mixed up.

Perhaps you are wondering, why the musings on crickets? I am not sure. Except, I have concluded that I love the sound of crickets. Or katydids, they sing too. It seems to me that Gene Stratton Porter mentions katydids more than crickets in her books. But katydids are green, crickets are black. The little fellow who came to visit was a cricket. There is something romantic about a cricket, in his little black suit tails.

Besides the crickets, there is not much to tell. So, I shall go to sleep listening to the lullabies of the crickets.

Evening Verse

And when the chief Shepherd shall appear,

ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.

1Peter 5:4

What We don't Realize As Christians

Kind of a strange heading, I'll admit. But I have been recently appreciating the amazing blessings that we often take for granted. I'll jot down a few that I've noticed lately, as I am working on a rather large project and shouldn't be taking the time to post.

- Everyday drudgery: when work becomes monotonous, I find my self musing over complicated subjects in my mind to help with the monotony - subjects like, Will the streets of gold be see-though? When Christ was on earth did animals (such as flys, stray dogs) bother him more or less than others? (Would they recognize that he was their Creator, and flock to him or respectfully keep their distance? Or did they know he was their Creator?)

--- we have so many topics to ponder and wonder on, what do people think about who don't have the assurance of being in Heaven? How much they miss!

- Feeling Lonely, Sad, or Depressed: I rely so heavily on the promises, verses, and songs. When I am down, repeating these to myself or even out loud quickly dispels the gloom. Is it any wonder so many people drink? With no assurance of Heaven, what is left but to "drink their sorrows away?"

-Afraid - "What time I am afraid I will trust in You." (There's a song to this too)

-Have a heavy secret -"Who knoweth all things." (Song: I can tell Jesus)

-Heavy burdened - "Casting all your cares upon Him, for He careth for you."

(Song: I will cast all my cares upon You.)

Anyway, the list can go on, but I cannot. Good night, All.

~Late Night Tea~

After a remarkably warm Friday past, today has been almost frigid. Tonight, the cold is creeping through the brick, through the plaster, and desperately trying to chill me. I, however, have fortified myself with an old friend and a cup of tea.

Tonight, my old friend is a dark, chocolate-brown hoodie, whose warmth seems almost human. Almost, I have solemnly informed my hoodie, Almost, but not quite. Nothing compares to the warmth of a hug. Even as I, many of you know, am not given to long hugs, there is always that one hug in particular that lasts the longest and is warmer than ever a hoodie can be.

Contemplating aside, I decided to make some tea to aid the hoodie's best efforts. I idly opened the tea cupboard to scout out a spicy,rich tea. A tea that would finish the cold, and maybe send my thoughts to the land of dreams. Yet, the tea cupboard was near empty. Three measly tea bags sat in the wooden Early Grey box. Two or three Berry Teas waited individually wrapped in a little bag. Neither would suit.

I wonder if my sigh could be heard in the West Indies? Tea. I shouldn't have liked to live in Boston in 1773. I might have been a Loyalist tonight based on tea alone.

A small quiet thought gently played in my mind. Tea, spices, West Indies: why, I would make my own tea! Surely, if they could...

Tonight, I sit. Sipping sweet, aromatic tea I dream. My soul and body is warm. My mind as well, is warm with cherished memories. Ah, Tea, in all the world, there is nothing quite like it.

~

A Tea Recipe

A Cup of Boiling water

A shake or two of ground Thyme

Several dashes of Lemon juice

A generous teaspoon of Cinnamon- Honey

~