I Am So Surprised

Life after nearly 70 years continues to surprise me

 Am So Surprised

I am so surprised that I've lived this long.

I am so surprised and awed each day, where ever I may be, when I look at God's incredible beauty surrounding me. The master artist, with his broad paintbrush, painting the green leaves on the trees, red and gold in the fall season, or the brown twigs and branches on a baren tree; with multiple shades of green when the spring season begins.

When I sit under a canopy of trees that he created, gazing into the sea of white clouds overhead in a pure blue sky, I'm so surprised. 

Listening to the gurgle of the creek running past my feet with a field of yellow, purple, red flowers dancing in the slow breeze blowing, cooling the air around me. The huge green ferns tickling my face and carpeting the forest floor.

As a child of 6 I was struck so by this scene. I loved running to my favorite spot to sit and dream and absorb the beauty around me.

At 17 I remember getting up at 2 A.M. to sit by the corral on my Aunt's cattle ranch in Eastern Oregon, in awe of the moon; huge, round, bright and hanging so low that I could reach out and touch it.

Listening to the howl of the coyotes in the quiet of the morning.

Or the quiet beauty of the first heavy snow fall -- trees laden with white -- the landscape where ever one looked a white wonderland.

The smell of the fresh fallen snow filling my lungs. The crunch of the dry powder under my feet as I made my way through the snow.

Listening to the wind blow through the trees outside my window as I lay snuggled beneath 6 quilts and blankets, nose cold but feet so warm.

Hearing the loud clap of thunder rolling o'er my head -- seeing a flash of light so bright as lightening struck somewhere near me.

A roaring fire. Campfire in a quiet forest night as friends and family gathered, laughing, singing and just talking amicably through the night.

A roaring fire in the fireplace as the rain tumbled down washing the world clean outside my door.

The sound of ocean waves roiling wildly onto the shore. The smell of fresh rain air and sea wafting up through my head mixing with my own air as I breathe.

The baby horse, cow, pig, dog, kitten being born before my eyes; it's first breath and first step filling my soul with wonder and complete awe of the grace and wonders of God. New life.

The cry of a human baby at birth. Holding and cuddling this bundle of wonder and beholding the miracle of life.

The incredible sorrow and helplessness while holding my father, my son at the moment of their death. Seeing and feeling the soul leave the body heading home to God's open arms. Knowing that the soul has gone -- that I am holding the shell of the life the body once held.

Standing atop the mountain where everything surrounding me is 50 miles away. Everywhere I turn I see the incredible vista and below me, tiny ant like creatures known as man, move slowly to where ever they may be going.

Feeling the pure, fresh air blowing softly on my face and through my hair as I lift my face to the sun and to the heavens.

I am so surprised each day when I awaken, I am still here; given another day to wonder and be in awe of the beauty that God created.

To taste the strawberry or raspberry on the plant in the field. To experience the day before me which will be filled with surprises at every turn.

At night, as I climb into my bed I thank God for this day, this new chance to live and do something for others. To discover and to experience this place called earth.

 

========================================

Below is a link to my story of my son and I. The loss of my son, Doug, was a tremendous shock to me. I wrote about it when I began reading of our men and women serving in Iraq coming home with devastating injuries; and some coming home to be buried.

I know what the families of these casualties are facing; Doug and I lived it for 40 some years and than, when it seemed we were finally winning the "battle," he died suddenly in his sleep from a heart attack.

view link

http:// hubpages.com/hub/The Death-of a Child - War Related or Not