This is the day that the Lord has made;

let us rejoice and be glad in it.    Psalm 118:24

We say we are taking Maybelle for a walk, but I think mostly we are taking one for ourselves. This week we walk the roads of my childhood and the ones that did not yet exist then.

We walk past where the Fisher's long straight driveway started and if we go farther down Fisher Road and turn left and then left again past houses on two-acre lots until the neighborhood road dead ends just past the house with the tennis court, we can look up into the enormous oak trees where the small white wood frame farmhouse of the Fisher’s once stood. It was surrounded by pastures and fields with a creek running through the woods where children waded, and sunlight broke through the canopy like glittering diamonds.

I look down as we leave to see little acorn hats at our feet, long-stranded and curling, as if they are straw hats from a Hawaiian island. I pick up one and then two, three, four, five and find the corresponding nuts to sit perfectly in them. They are a wonder I will sit on a window ledge. And share with the other nature lovers in my family.

The day before we walked past Hara's Granny's house and then turned right to loop around the house where Kathy used to babysit in the summers and on down the road that would dead-end in the floodplain that backed up to East North Street near where the Phillips had their carpentry shop. As we paused to look closely at an unusually beautiful red berry flocked in pink on what almost looked like a nandina bush, a woman pulled out of her driveway, waved to us, and drove on. A moment later she braked and backed her black Cadillac up, rolled down the window on the passenger side, leaned toward us to call out, “Do you want to know what that is?”

“Yes!” we responded. “It is a native plant commonly known as ‘Hearts-A-Bustin’.” And then she opened the door to her world with the question, “Do you want to see a yellow and black invasive spider named Joro?" Jeff and I knew this spider well because it had taken over our backyard; first appearing last year masquerading as a writing spider but its web was a mess instead of the writing spider’s tidy orb and it was colored on its underside the pink-orange-red of a Magnolia cone before the red berries ripen. This year eight or nine of them have haunted my middle-of-the-night sleeplessness and kept me out of my beloved backyard, stretching their webs over every pathway, including the outdoor dining table and my writing shed and even over the sandbox. Oh, I am terrified of them! But this was an opportunity to share nature with this lovely woman. Our ‘Yes!’ had her backing her car further down the road and back into her driveway, leading us to the edge of the woods, pointing behind her mailbox.

This is what I love about the South - the generous spirit and hospitable openness of the people. Lisa was dressed to go to the gym, but her spectacular blue eyes had been carefully shaded in blues; her lipstick was a soft pink. She pointed out the web of her large Joro; one orb for catching the prey, and another messier one behind it for trash, and where the much smaller male mate waited. We talked about the more familiar yellow and black garden ‘writing spiders’ with their identifying white zig-zag marking on their webs and she led us down her drive to her house where two writing spiders had spun their webs near her windows.

"I am having my house painted in a couple of weeks, but I protect my spiders," she said as she lifted the leaves near the web where their egg sacs were hidden. "I will twist-tie these on other bushes so their eggs will hatch out safely in the spring. I love my spiders!"

We exchanged names and she drove away, waving one more time.

These are the gifts God gives us. Perfect little creations all around us we have not looked at closely before. A lovely conversation with someone we have never met. I am reminded that each day is God's Day. Leaves burning almost fluorescent green backlit by the morning sun. Shadows of dark and light patterns on my walls and floors as the wind blows through the treetops outside my window. A brown bunny nibbles the grass as I crack the eggs and brown the bacon. A stranger I may meet with a sweet story to tell. If there is a word for this story, it would be observation.

Observation is the antidote for the pressing of the hard things against your spirit. Hold in your hand a shell or a leaf, a pinecone or a feather. Look at it closely for a minute or two or three. It is intricate and complex and amazingly formed, delicately created. God designed this in every little detail. If He cared so very much for this tiny piece of nature – imagine how much He cares for and watches over you.

Look into the face of those God brings into your path today. The person you work with or your own child. The woman who is checking out your groceries, the optometrist who is examining your eyes, the man from the power company who just descended from the transformer repairing your broken power lines. (Tells you about my week!) Take a minute or two or three to talk with them. To be grateful for them. Imagine how much God cares for them.

Rejoice in the gift of this day. And all it holds. Take nothing for granted. Slow down and open your eyes and hold God’s reassurance in your hands.

I am not sure if it is from the scripture printed inside the egg carton (I love that they do that!), but this little song has been playing in my mind as I thought about these things; “This is the day that the Lord has made! I will rejoice and be glad in it! This is the day, this is the day that the Lord has made!”

Of course, I looked it up this morning. The 118th Psalm is filled, line by line, with distress and a plea for protection, the writer surrounded by enemies like bees - yet taking refuge in the Lord. Before we make it to the glorious reassurance that the Day belongs to the Lord, we find this profound prediction: men rejected God’s foundational stone, yet God made it into the stone His Kingdom would be built on. Jesus was rejected, yet he would be the perfect stone the whole kingdom would rest on. How marvelous! That is why we can sing, “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!” Little stumbling blocks and stones in our shoes cannot dim the glorious things of God.

The stone that the builders rejected

    has become the cornerstone.

This is the Lord's doing;

    it is marvelous in our eyes.

This is the day that the Lord has made;

    let us rejoice and be glad in it.    Psalm 118:23-24

Many of my friends these days are battling the hard things. Enemies pursue them like bees. It is difficult to rejoice in the day. Matthew West wrote these words of encouragement and I want to share them with you.

“Do you remember singin'?

Back when you were younger

He's got the whole world in his hands

Well, that's still true

I hold your family, all your friends, and all your loved ones

And even when you're barely holdin' on

I'm holdin' you

So take heart

And take a breath

Let me lift that heavy weight up off your chest

Take my hand

I know it's lookin' dark

But when the world falls all around you

I won't let you fall apart

Child, take heart.”

Matthew West - Take Heart 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3osp2p_gLx4

Note about the photo at the beginning of the story. That’s me. My younger sister dressed in red behind me, my cousin Barry walking away holding his nephew, I think. The country store in the background belonged to my Papa, who died when I was 8 months old. At the time of the photograph, it was filled with bales of hay for the cows. A simple moment captured, meaning nothing.

Yet it is a recently found photo submitted as evidence of a glorious day I can never return to. I think my horse grazed with the cows in the pasture in front of me and I am guessing my Daddy had just called my name as he took this picture. It was a time and a place where children could freely roam and neighbors were family. One day poured too quickly into another. Everything there is no longer there. It will not return. It is my reminder; rejoice in this day.