I watch the baby red eared sliders launch themselves off the logs as I approach the water. These turtles are named sliders for this very reason: they slide–quick as lightning–into the water.
The Italian Mama tells me how easily people accept disappointing things in their lives and how terribly they accept good things. Why do we do this? We doubt and question and fear the good things. Instead of questioning and being suspicious of great things happening, we should simply receive and embrace the great thing, thriving and flourishing as we do.
My youngest daughter wants me to ride in the boat while she attempts her stunts on the kneeboard.
I’ve been writing down things I just love in this world to share with my daughters. It’s a fun conversation to talk about these things and why I love them. So far, I have the following on my list:
Today I’m reminded and comforted by the great promise from John 14 that Jesus goes and prepares a place for us. One day, we shall experience this prepared place–this dwelling made for us by God’s own hand.
I’m nourished the Southern way: fried okra, fried chicken, butter beans, sweetest sweet corn, sliced tomatoes, sweet tea, and a trip to Dairy Queen for dessert.
This morning I see a blue jay dive for a locust. I remembered the extraordinary discovery of the resonance chamber inside the locust. Enjoy:
An Extraordinary Find: The Secret Resonance Chamber
We examine the abandoned shell and marvel at the tiny hole by which the cicada exited. Such an interesting insect!
We talk about that distinct cicada sound (listen in this video), and I learn that it’s actually one of the loudest of insect-producing sounds. But how? We discover that the hollow inside of the cicada’s abdomen acts like a resonance chamber to amplify that song.
“What’s a resonance chamber?” she asks.
The very term delights me. It’s an enclosed space where sound waves combine, reinforce, and intensify one another. And it’s all happening inside that little insect. I begin to think about the space inside of me.
Just the other evening, a dear friend talked about her “mind space” and whether or not she makes room for lovely, noble, and pure thoughts. We talked about godly thinking that we allow to occupy our spacious minds.
It’s like my own resonance chamber up in here. In the enclosed space of this life, I want to allow the Good, the Noble, the Lovely, and the Pure to combine, reinforce, and intensify. And I want the resulting music to be as loud and invasive as the cicada’s song. Against a complacent and compromising culture, I let another song resonate, haunt, and confront.
This morning I read an interesting insight from Prayers Over Our Children. The author writes to God:
My husband stops every few minutes as he’s reading David McCullough’s new book, The Wright Brothers.
We’re driving through Kansas, and I learn the state motto: Ad astra per aspera.