How Do You Feel about Red?

I’ve written posts about colors I love—yellow, green, and blue (my favorite)—but Valentine’s Day makes me think about red and I find myself torn. It has never been a favorite color and I rarely wear it. Maybe your wardrobe is highlighted with bursts of red and it’s your first choice for lips and nails or neckties. Just for fun, meander with me and then let me know how you feel about red.

For me, red screams. I think of red stop signs and traffic lights and the red flashes that pull me over if I ignore either. I think of red corrections scribbled on my writing or of “being in the red” when I neglect to balance my account. And I think of the red Empty light which is so disappointing when I’m eager to get someplace and don’t want to stop for gas. Or the red warning lights that hiss “Check Engine” or some other unwelcome message.

I do confess that I choose a team to root for by the color of their uniforms—I know you sports fans are cringing. That being said, I never cheer for a team wearing red, just like I would never buy a red car.

But…

I view the glorious red streaks in a sunset and my breath catches. I spontaneously smile when I see bright red cardinals punctuating the grey collage of branches outside my window or the red caps on the heads of woodpeckers tapping the trees in search of food.

And speaking of food, who can resist a ripe red strawberry, crisp red apple, tasty red Jersey tomato, or a juicy red watermelon? I love red peppers in my salad along with red radishes. And how much delight is there in lifting the lid of a pot of simmering red spaghetti sauce?  

I have a passion for holly bushes and thrill at the red berries set against shiny green leaves and the winterberry holly plant that’s mostly berries with few leaves. Which makes me think of Christmas décor with its cheerful pops of red. I tried to transition to burgundy but soon defaulted to “Christmas red,” which leads us to other holidays celebrated with red.

Patriotic holidays entice me to add red accents to my outfit. The red, white, and blue color scheme stirs my heart and lifts my mood. Around Memorial Day, I appreciate freshly planted red impatiens alternating with white in a garden border.

And then there’s tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, awash in red. There’s something to be said for perky red carnations and the velvet soft petals of red roses. I grow nostalgic remembering days gone by when I created cards with red paper doilies and cut out red construction paper hearts. I fondly remember my father giving me a small, red, heart-shaped box of chocolates every Valentine’s Day.

So, tell me…

How do you feel about red?

Happy Day!

We heard the sweetest words at David’s oncologist appointment, “Your son is cancer free!” The doctor spoke it with a period at the end, but we heard it with an exclamation point.

Almost exactly six months to the day we had heard another doctor say, “Your son has testicular cancer.” We were dumb with shock. Our first thought (after no, this can’t be) was How is David going to do this? Chemo, injections, nausea, lying for hours watching destructive poisons drip into his skinny body? But he did it! We did it. And together we watched the Lord, our Shepherd, care for us. Psalm 23 was our reality:

We lacked nothing. Caring Christian nurses were assigned to David; friends brought meals at just the right time; we were keenly aware of the grace of God.

He made us lie down and refreshed us. Yes, hours in a hospital recliner, but also sustaining naps when we got home, and the sweet assurance that we could trust Him in the middle of this storm.

He guided us along the right paths. He brought signs of anemia to our attention, He helped us master the steep learning curve of a cancer journey, and He gave wisdom and discernment to us and the medical staff who were caring for David.

Even though we walked through the dark valley of cancer with a child who had limited understanding, we did not fear because God was with us and comforted us.

In the presence of the enemy called “cancer” we were fed from His table of supply and, truly, our cup overflowed.

As much as we can testify to God’s goodness and love, our greatest joy is that we never lost sight of our future—dwelling in the house of the Lord forever. Yes, we won the battle with cancer and David was granted more days to worship and demonstrate God’s love on this earth. But even if we had lost him in the fight, we had the assurance that he (and we) will live in God’s presence forever. Actually, our awareness of Heaven was made even clearer and the sweet peace of its promise grew brighter.

We thank all of you who were praying for David and us during this time. You made our journey lighter.

Happy New… Wonder!

Our picture window framed a beautiful scene this morning. The trees were barren spindles of varying shades of gray. Even the two evergreen trees were not ever-green but more the color army fatigues with a slight brown hue.

At the top of the frame was a cloudless sky that can only be described as a pure “sky-blue.” With striking clarity, it provided a breathtaking backdrop for the gangly treetops. The longer I gazed at this artistic display, the more I wondered at its beauty and the vast, unlimited ingenuity of God to create color. I speculated how this scene would look if it was only shades of gray.

What if we only ever saw the world in gray tones? What if that was all we knew and had no conception of color? Just as I was thanking God for colors and praising Him for His unfathomable mind and creativity, an exclamation point appeared at the lower right corner of the masterpiece. A brilliant red cardinal alit on a nearby branch. Then two others joined him, punctuating the scene with remarkable splashes of glory. I sat in wonder—of the view and of the God who painted it.

I never want to lose my sense of wonder! The only way I know to preserve it is to be still and watch for the next awesome spectacle to appear, to anticipate surprises of beauty with a childlike anticipation.

I am forever encouraging my grandchildren to be curious, to question, to wonder. I find I’m in good company and recently shared this quote from Einstein with them:

“The important thing is to not stop questioning… One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplated the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery. Never lose a holy curiosity.”

Now they call me Nana Einstein, which is fine with me because they got the message.

May we never lose a sense of “holy curiosity” and live lives of wonder that respond in worship. 

*The photo is of our youngest grandchild. Although the picture is 10 years old, Parker has never lost his sense of wonder.

Happy New… You!

Every year our local tabernacle displays this probing sign for Rosh Hashanah:

What will you do better this year?

When I asked myself that question for 2025, suggestions swarmed. I needed to get a practical, manageable handle on my thoughts and develop attainable steps. I grouped them into three categories.  

  1. Plug the leaks—discover those things that steal my time, rob my health, distract my thoughts, and offer me good-enough rather than what’s best. This is number one. It has required honest introspection but has also stirred anticipation of newfound freedom.
  2. Plan specific, measurable steps that will increase my strength—physically, spiritually, and mentally. This includes increasing my intake of healthy food, inspiring reading, and meaningful activity.
  3. Plow intentionally—weed and nourish. Too often I tolerate unwelcome weeds or burrowing pests. When I neglect thoughtless habits or undisciplined thoughts, I have less joy and am not living effectively. It’s not enough to remove the bad, I must nourish the life God’s granted me—which reflects point two.

Grow
in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. 
To Him be glory both now and forever! Amen. 2 Peter 3:18

This isn’t about rigid resolutions and doomed sky high goals, it’s about doing life better.

So… what will you do better this year?