There’s a saying people around here like to repeat. “Everything’s bigger in Texas.”

As an outsider looking in, I’m here to tell you, that ain’t necessarily so. (I know I’ve just alienated my Texas friends, but stay with me.)

One summer, Pilot and I took a trip to Nova Scotia, Canada. My. What beautiful country. And I love their blue/green plaid! The scenery exploded with ideas to stir the writer’s imagination within me.

At the beginning of our trip, we drove to Economy, where we booked a cottage at the wonderful, Four Seasons Retreat. The best part, besides the fact the owners had Burnese Mountain Dogs, and Golden Retrievers? Our cottage was RIGHT on the Bay of Fundy. How cool is that?

Pilot and I watched in amazement at the wonder of God. As the tide receded, out onto the floor of the Bay, we went to explore. I’d read there were gems and such, lying around the area, just waiting to be snatched up. So, snatch, I did. I filled the pockets of my windbreaker with lovely green rocks. Some larger than my hand. I filled up Pilot’s pockets, as well.

Fast forward. Pilot and I have traversed Nova Scotia from northwest to east on the final leg of our adventure.

The treasures I gathered in Economy, had begun to smell rather fishy, by now. So, at the cabin we rented at The Ovens, on the Atlantic Coast, I decided to do something about it. I began boiling the rocks in water filled with dish detergent. With each new batch of rocks, I boiled fresh water. When I finished with one pot of water, I threw it out the door.

After about the second or third pan of tossed, fish-smelling water, I heard seagulls calling. (Here’s where we get to the statement I made at the beginning of this post…not everything is bigger in Texas.)

When I tossed the next pan of water out the door – yes, this was a looong process – I saw the largest seagulls I have ever seen in my entire life. These guys were HUGE! They came up to knee-height. I know I’m short, but knee-high for me, is about 15 inches.

Images of Tippi Hedren in The Birds, flashed through my brain as I dashed back inside and slammed the door shut.

I can still hear them calling, “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

So what attracted these seagulls to the front of our cabin?

Aroma.

While in my mind the smell bordered on a nasty stench, to these fine feathered friends, it was chow.

The apostle Paul calls Christians a sweet aroma that is pleasing to God. I don’t want to smell like those rocks I collected from the Bay of Fundy, before I cleaned them up. Do you?

 Thanks be to God who leads us, wherever we are, on his own triumphant way and makes our knowledge of him spread throughout the world like a lovely perfume! We Christians have the unmistakeable “scent” of Christ, discernible alike to those who are being saved and to those who are heading for death. To the latter it seems like the very smell of doom, to the former it has the fresh fragrance of life itself.

II Corinthians 2:14-16a   Phillips Translation

 

I wish you well.

Sandy

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