Ready to move on

We're on the move again. These are some of the last shots in Grand Junction, Colorado.

The surrounding mesas, while barren, are nonetheless interesting formations that enclose the towns along the river. They contrast with the lush green along the river banks and irrigated fields, which are a reminder of the picture painted by the Psalmist in Psalm 1, "Blessed is the man...whose delight is in the law of the Lord...He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither."

And speaking of fruit, this is a fruit-growing region, with apple, peach and cherry orchards spreading across the river valley. Sunday afternoon we went to an orchard owned by the pastor's mother- and father-in-law.  Besides the fruit, they grow some vegetables and flowers. These colorful zinnias were picked by our granddaughter to take to her teacher tomorrow. 

Visiting the orchard brought back memories of my boyhood days on the farm further south in Colorado. When Dad bought the farm, we "inherited" some old farming implements designed for use behind a horse, the traction of the iron wheels providing the power to cut, or in this case, scatter seed.

The odd thing about this sower is the tree trunk that had grown through one of the wheels.

I think we can safely say that this is the result of a long period of inactivity. May it not be the illustration of our spiritual lives, with long periods of inactivity that lead to our being ensnared and entangled in sin and worldly cares.

It was a blessing to be here the week Braewyn started walking. It's one more thing she has added to the list of her accomplishments. She was already an avid corn-on-the-cob eater, as she proved at dinner tonight. She is never still, always on the move, and for that she has to have energy. We have seen she eats well and often. OK, the only food we saw her turn down was green peas. When Rachel put one in Braewyn's mouth, she shuddered and spit it right back out. Not just once. I think Joy had the same problem with her daughter, Mia. Don't be too harsh on the girls, folks. Mom says I did the same thing when I was little. Is it a genetically-transmitted trait? Maybe in time they'll eat peas. I finally learned to eat them (not necessarily like them), and it only took me 30 years.