Life is circular. As I alluded to in a recent post, the natural seasons change as do the seasons of life. What goes around typically comes around.

[caption id="attachment_819" align="aligncenter" width="701"] Photo Courtesy of Jeff Schans[/caption]

A few years ago I recall being out for a bike ride on an early fall day.

The temperature was perfect, not too hot nor too cold. I soaked in the beauty of the red, brown, and gold foliage as I pedaled the rural Central Pennsylvania roads near my home.

I was about seven miles from home on a downhill run when I heard a “ping” and a few moments later, as if the first “ping” did not catch my attention, the sound an encore “ping” chimed in.

Innately, there’s something magical about a twenty-month old and the world of wonder that surrounds a child at that age.

What’s down right delightful is when that twenty-month old is my granddaughter and she repeatedly calls my name.

Recently, Jackie and I were thrilled to be on “Naomi duty” over a weekend as her parents “took five” and attended to things on the home front minus their bundle of joy.

When talking with Naomi via Face Time over the past few weeks, her word flow has gone from an isolated handful, to a trickle, and now to a steady running stream. It’s amazing to me how a few days can make such a huge difference!

Typically, when her Mama calls us she dials Jackie’s phone.

When Gammy answers the call, little Naomi is front and center on the screen. That’s when I start my silent countdown from five – “5-4-3-2-1” and the first words out of her mouth are “where Papa go?”

No matter how dismal a situation might seem to be,

With a passing glance so much can be overlooked. Deep wells full of abundant springs are untapped for a momentary taste of a much lesser dew.

An invasion took place this past weekend. The troops landed, occupied both high and low ground, engaged the natives, and have since retreated back to headquarters.

Their return convoy looked like a scene out of the Beverly Hillbillies, “come listen to a story about a man named Jed…as he loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly…Hills that is“.

Unless you have been transported back in time or launched to another planet, it would be difficult to imagine one not tuning into some aspect of the Winter Olympics from Sochi.

The media coverage is everywhere. It is hard to avoid and it most certainly captures one’s attention.

In an alleged match-up between “Winter Olympics” vs. “Summer Olympics”, the snowy, frozen version of the O-games wins hands down – at least in my opinion.

You might differ, fair enough.

The pace is fast and the various events have the appeal of a winter sports smorgasbord to the novice as well as seasoned sports nut.

Days, weeks, months, and years of training and sacrifice are expended by the athletes involved – no matter the event, be it skiing, bobsled, figure skating, ski jump, luge, hockey, and the crazy fly-through-the-air-backwards-forwards-upside down events that defy logic.

Oh, the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or stand around with sinners, or join in with mockers. But they delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on it day and night