Watercolor Wednesday: Reflecting on summertime life
By Leo Boucher. Shared with permission; all rights reserved.
Time on a boat affords much thought, if you’re a solitary rower like the one in this painting by my dad. As we turn to autumn, why not take some time to reflect over your summer. What were some highlights? Lowlights? How did you react to them? How did you sense God moving in and through you during the highs and lows – and all the times in between? As you take some time to reflect, consider what speaks to you in the painting.
For me, summer involved travel. Times to see loved ones making new and precious memories; times to experience new places and sights; times to remember that as physical beings, we get tired and hungry and need some down time. The tree stretching across the water tells me that God erects a shelter over me, to provide relief from the baking sun and reminds me to sink my roots deeply into the rich soil, that I might access his living water.
How about you?
Hello! 
Our summer was beautiful and yet desperately sad. We live in Texas and the rest of our family live in Scotland, and three days before we were due to fly to Edinburgh my dad collapsed and died of a heart attack. The timing hurt so much as we weren’t able to make our goodbyes, and yet we were able to spend three precious weeks as a family, regrouping and finding our bearings. Simultaneously Scotland had one of the best summers and my memory of 2018 will be mingled with balmy summer evenings in my parents’ garden, and the pain of loss. Today I was reflecting on my post on this site. The dread of the “phone call” bearing bad news is a spectre that hangs over the lives of those living far from loved ones. In my case, I can point to many ways in which God was with us as we navigated grief and loss.
Oh Alex. I read this and wept for you. I’m desperately sorry to hear this news. Three days before you would be there with your parents, he has a heart attack and died. This just happened to dear friends of ours too. They went to Paris to celebrate their anniversary. Came home and the next morning he suffered a heart attack and died. His wife could see some graces in the timing, as you are seeming to do too. But oh, Alex. I can’t even imagine the huge emotions you felt as you packed up your family and then had that long plane ride over the Atlantic, each moment so hard with you probably dreading for the plane to land but yet so desperately eager to do so too. I thought of you yesterday, actually, when I was doing some ironing, thinking of how you and your mum iron together over Skype!
Thank you for your post. Sending love and prayers. xxx