An Hour in the Country

I had an opportunity to spend an hour in the country this past weekend.

Friends of mine had offered me their rhubarb patch to pick rhubarb from

and I jumped at the opportunity.

I live in town

in an apartment

above our local FOE

on Main Street 

in 

Brookville.

Oftentimes, it can be noisy during day/evening

Traffic, sirens, sounds of a helicopter up at the hospital.

Bands/karaoke downstairs on the weekend.

Bingo on Sunday evenings.

Late at night and early in the morning, 

I have to admit -

it gets quiet.

Stars come out.

Maybe the moon.

Birds sing in the early morning hours.

You can hear yourself think.

But nothing can compare

to the sounds 

of the country.

I went out to the home of some friends of mine on Friday 

to pick and harvest some rhubarb.

I chose to sit down on a ledge next to their shed, 

to cut off the leaves and the ends of the rhubarb.

I couldn't help but notice the quiet.

Even with the sound of someone mowing the lawn nearby, 

it was still much quieter than I'm used to, 

living in town.

When that mower stopped, 

it was really, really quiet

except for the sounds of nature.

As I took in this view

I was almost in tears at the peacefulness I felt here.

Overwhelmed by the sense that God was in this place.

I had been reading my Facebook Memories all week

and was reminded that seven years ago, 

I had been in the hospital with 

congestive heart failure 

and had been sent to Allegheny General in Pittsburgh

for a heart cath procedure.

Thankfully, 

they found no blockages 

and I was sent home.

As I sat outside this shed,

cutting up my harvested rhubarb, 

I was reminded of how much I was loved:

♥Loved by these friends who read of my love of rhubarb

and offered me their patch

♥Loved by people who have prayed for me when things have been rough

♥Loved by family and friends

and 

♥Loved by the one who loves me most -

My Heavenly Father

When I went to leave their house, I took that picture of their country setting.

(The picture doesn't do it justice, in my opinion.)

As I went to drive out of their driveway, 

color caught my attention and I backed up.

There along the side of their home, 

beautiful flowers.

I just had to get out and take some more pictures!

Beautiful, aren't they?

Early Sunday morning, I was at the laundromat drying my laundry.

I always take along a book to read.

(It helps to pass the time!)

As I did, I came across something I had marked in the book when I read it years ago:

(from Shenandoah Home by Sara Mitchell)

I was reminded yet again of 

God's faithfulness

to me.

In the middle of any trials, storms, adversities or ups and downs in life that

I have ever faced,

He has always been with me.

And 

everything

has been 

all right.

Another reminder came later in the morning on, 

of all things,

a bag of Vidalia onions.

Scripture verses from 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: 

A time to be born, and a time to die; 

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted."

To everything, there is a season.

That is so true.

No matter what, though, 

those seasons will come to an end,

just as they do in the physical world.

And the faithfulness of God, unlike the changing of the seasons,

is never changing, ever constant.

I can count on Him to always be the same -

yesterday, today, and forever.

Another thing that comes to mind:

When I awoke on Saturday morning, the lyrics to an old hymn came to mind.

I will close out this particular blog post with those lyrics and

pray that whatever you may be going through,

that you will allow God to meet you,

lead and guide you,

and bring you that

peace 

that passes

all 

understanding.

In doing so,

we will all be able to say,

"It Is Well With My Soul!"

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come

Let this blest assurance control

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but the whole

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul

It is well (it is well)

With my soul (with my soul)

It is well, it is well with my soul

** This is a hymn penned by hymnist Horatio Spafford and composed by Philip Bliss. 

After suffering the loss of his children, 

Spafford wrote this beautiful hymn as a 

testament to the 

salvation 

he found in Jesus

through the 

good and bad times in life.

Blessed Beyond Measure

Love and prayers,

Sue