What's saving my life this spring.

Spring has me noticing, nurturing and relishing the growth that comes, even as I enter a new season of Old. Here's what's saving my life right now.

Spring is never not a good thing, but Spring 2026 is longing for a blue-ribbon mention in the blog. 

It’s early morning as I write, and gazing out the front library window, I notice those quiet, White Oak trees, whose moss-covered trunks have been wriggling their dark, inky shapes against a soft sunrise all winter, are now leafed out. My view has turned to green. 

These quiet giants are always sneaky and lovely and protective, and now only a smidgen of blue sky peeks through them as they sheltering my sleepy eyes from the direct gaze of the sun.

It’s been a treasure watching tiny hints of spring sprout, then buds push forth from the soil. A few hundred irises—faithful survivors in our deer-friendly habitat—are just about to positively explode with color, and already the quiet, white of dogwood blossoms are singing softly to my soul.

Yes, our home is still unsold, but along with the urgency to get it over the finish line, there is also the reminder to treasure Every Little Spring Thing once more! The beauty and solace are astounding, as are the mysterious sounds of wild things calling to one another, the drenching spring downpours watering the hillside, and the damp lichen festooning from mossy branches.

Here are six things delighting my heart this spring:

1. Weeding.

 

You weren't expecting this one, and neither was I.

There is only once a year that I find weeding a delight, and this is it, when the spring soil is still soft, and the bulbs and perennials are showing up to promise a show of foliage for the summer.  After that, our clay Oregon soil can turn to concrete, but right now, a simple tease of the roots makes pulling young weeds a treat.  Four deer, who have claimed our property as their domain, occasionally watch me warily from a safe distance as I inhale deep breaths and ground myself in the soil.  I savor the earth smell, the bird sounds, the engaging company of a podcast or music in my ears as I tweak and stir and pull, occasionally tuck in some liatris bulbs as I dig, quietly bringing order from the sleepy decay of winter. 

This year I learned that spreading out the weeding and maintenance into smaller, 30-minute forays into the garden has limited my Old Girl pain and made me eager for more, and when I return indoors, sweaty and grubby to soak in a warm tub, there is a contented smile next to the smudge on my face. 

I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.

 2. Creativity.

Another way to get mud on my hands is a new hobby sprouting up at my table: hand-building clay mugs! 

I can say “mugs” now that I’ve built exactly two, but I’ll bet there will be another one or two by the time you’re reading this!

“Scraffito” is the style of decorative clay work that has caught my fancy, a casual, rough style that suits my penchant for creativity as well as my need for casual imperfection.  In this process, glaze is applied to unfired clay once the piece is leather-hard.  After the glaze dries, you cut through both glaze and clay with tools to carve out a textured design, leaving the glazed area in relief.  My local pottery studio (shout out to Pots and Whatnot in Dallas, Oregon) fires them for me for $2 a piece!

You’ll need to Google “scraffito” for photos, as my own creations are definitely in the B- to C+ range right now, and not photo-worthy.  I find the process to be very meditative, requiring my ADHD brain to stay focused and shutting down its busy chatter. But even just dreaming up my next mug shape or design gives me a joyful little burst of endorphins. 

Delight + calm + usefulness that fits comfortably into my ever-changing schedule…. It all equals quiet, contented bliss.

3. Opportunity.

Speaking of usefulness, beauty and joy, I recently had a sweet opportunity to share some words of hope and encouragement with a delightful group of women at a spring tea event. 

If you’ve read my last two posts, you’ll know that I recently received a diagnosis that came with a lot of fear and self-doubt: mild cognitive impairment.   But along with walking me through the first days of panic and fear, the Lord has so sweetly and gently taken my hand to lead me forward toward cautious confidence, and even joy.

The request was to talk on the theme of “Lemons and Lace”, about life’s hard things (the lemons), and also the beauty of the lace that God weaves through our lives. 

“Can I do this, Lord?” I asked, when the invitation to speak came.  It was exactly the message God was already working in my soul, both through Jim’s challenges, and also my own, new diagnosis.

“You can,” he assured me, and pointed me toward Psalm 46, which directs us to a hiding place in times of trouble, and teaches us how to still our souls when life feels threatening.  I was delighted to invite these women to hide, along with me, in the strong tower of refuge that the Lord is for us. 

A new “Lemons and Lace” moment came just as I was about to step out my door for the event.  Reaching into the cupboard, I knocked the vanilla to the floor, where the cap split open, spattering brown vanilla everywhere--including my tan pants! Not wanting to choose a new outfit, I rinsed out the brown spots with dish soap and quickly threw the slacks in the dryer, then slipped them back on and ran out the door, giggling to myself. 

The lemon? I spoke in damp pants.  The lace? I smelled lovely, like vanilla!

More “lace” awaited me at the event in the form of beautiful table settings, creative hostess gifts, lovely food and tea and music, and lovely visits with friend old and new.  And the extra sweetness was that throughout the journey of preparing this talk, God quietly reassured my heart that I had his permission to step out in faith, not fear, and get my gifting back in action.  He’s not finished with me yet.

This is the refuge, and this is the grace.

This is the way He turns lemons to lace.

Ashes to beauty, panic to peace,

When God is with us our striving can cease.

For God is our Refuge, the place we can hide,

Around us, within us, and here by our side.

So I will not fear, and I shall not be moved;

My heart can be still: I am honored and loved.

Lord, You are my Fortress! I find in this place,

Peace for my lemons, now laced with grace.

 4. Baby skin.

I’m fresh off the glow of a day with my grandson.

I get it now, the obsessive glee a grandchild brings.  All y’all have been quite polite in not overwhelming others with how amazing your grandchild is, but it’s my blog and I’ll obsess if I want to.

Reading is optional.

So this delicious little 15-month old bounced in yesterday, bringing his mom and his dog with him.  Grins and generous doses of chub arrived with him as he walked in the door on sturdy hobbit legs, scanning for something with wheels to play with. 

(Papa’s walker is his favorite, as he gets to practice both pushing and driving at the same time. Theo also lovingly pats the tires of every car he walks by.)

No one told me how exhilarating it would be when blue eyes twinkle with delight at seeing you for no apparent reason.  I am also obsessed with all that lovely, glowing skin, which I can hardly resist munching on.  His laughter and curiosity and love delight me.  I am so blessed!

I’m blessed, too, that his Mommy needs to drive him.  Molly was a sturdy, chubby toddler just a few years ago, right?  I am so grateful for the bond that we share after weathering so many life seasons together.  Sometimes now she kindly mothers me, as she does her son. Other times we chatter like schoolmates, commiserate over the endlessness of this stage of parenting (or in my case, decay), and cook together or dream about the future.

I confess that Theo has also now been indoctrinated into the joys of weeding.  His curiosity and delight fed my own as his chubby fingers pulled weeds, and even Molly sat happily on my damp soil, clearing patches of earth and heaping up large piles of weeds as we talked.

5. Paths and walks.

But spring doesn’t just live at Gallagher’s Hollow among the oaks.  It beckons me, with my newfound need to support my brain by moving my body, to lovely trails around us. 

The paved Rickreall Creek Trail in the nearby town of Dallas is one of my favorites, and each time I walk there, I find new shoots of vines and flowers to charm me, the creek singing nearby as it rushes past. 

South of Dallas, Beazell Forest, with it’s wandering paths through forests and meadows, is also blissful and stunning.  Great views and gulps of forest air energize you as you hike.  If you go, bring your camera! And don’t neglect to stop and read the sweet love story that goes with it. 

My precious Baskett Slough Wildlife Refuge, with its wildlife, vistas, meadows and ponds, is endlessly rewarding as well.  The trails here, easily accessible from Highway 22, became a refuge for my own wild life back in 2020.  I still retreat there often, both for the beautiful hikes, and also to run to the God who gives us such good gifts, and places of refuge to run to. 

If you are a wildlife enthusiast, I encourage you to check out Jim Leonard’s photos (sample here) of Baskett Slough’s amazing birds, on Jim & Judy Leonard’s Facebook page. He shoots astounding photos with a camera lens the size of my rather ample head, so lovely (the birds, not the head) that painting them might just be my next hobby.

But even a simple stroll through your local neighborhood has lovely spring surprises waiting for you.  I confess to pausing to caress a stranger’s Snowball Bush, still wet with rain, the other day as I walked past.   Another time I glanced over my shoulder, then bent, sneaky-like, to pull a few weeds in a stranger’s garden, just for the sheer joy of feeling the roots slide effortlessly from the soil.

This is your invitation to open your eyes to the beauties around you.  Get outside and celebrate your own wild life!

6. Friendship.

One of the beauties of growing old is that I can now see the blooming and flourishing of seeds that seemed to be randomly dropped into my life during different seasons.  The quiet secret is that God, of course, is not random at all. 

My deepest friendships were never planned.  Some spouted from times of deep pain and loss. Other times a common goal drew us together, or simply shared history, where paths that crossed turned out to be divine appointments that sent down deep roots of sisterhood. 

A few of these friends have graduated to the title of Fristers—half friend, half sister.  One of these I met when I was 8.  She calls me every Wednesday on her way to work, and we share our joys and concerns, and pray each other through the week. 

Another treasured group of deep friendship sprang from a Bible study we attended we were young marrieds.  Another from a gathering of sleepy moms who met to pray early in the morning while our kids were sleeping.  Strong and lasting friendships also formed with those I homeschooled shoulder to shoulder with. 

The quiet secret is that God, of course, is not random at all.

Even now, as I enter the OLD season, I still feel these tribes standing back-to-back with me, swords out, as we lend courage and laughter and pray each other over life’s hurdles. Even as distance or disability prevent some of us from meeting in person, technology has helped us continue to link hands.

Love does this.  Love stands with.  Love keeps showing up.

Deeply rooted friendships continue to be so enriching to my life. Whether it’s by phone, a chat over coffee, a hike in the woods or a group text thread, friendships are saving my life right now.

Let this be your encouragement to put yourself in the path of friendship, even if friendships have been a source of pain for you in the past.  Let the seeds fall, let some fall away, even.  But also feed them, nurture them, and watch how they spring up and nurture you back. 

. . . . . . . . . .

So yes, I’m growing old.  But gratefully, I’m also Growing, OLD.  And Spring has me nurturing and noticing and relishing the growth, even in this new "old" season.

So what's saving your life this spring?  What is bringing you delight?  Don’t be afraid to count your many blessings. 

In fact, name them one by one.

Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!

Blessed is the man (or woman)

who takes refuge in him!

Psalm 34:8 ESV