Tag Archives: inspiration

Living

09 Monday Jun 2025

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS

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Two small flip-chart calendars were given to me a whole lotta living ago. One was from a classmate as we graduated from nursing school. The other is from a sweet friend who roomed with me one of the years we helped with mission work in Guyana. Both calendars stand for memorable times in my life. On both, each day of the year has a quote, or a verse, rather than the day of the week, allowing me to continue using them year after year. The one from 1996 is at my bedside, where I can recall the friendship and her kind words written inside the cover. I have tried, unsuccessfully, to find her so I can thank her, and to tell her how her written note, as well as the quotes within the calendar, have inspired me. I let too much living happen between her Christmas cards, and now I cannot reach her. Christy, I hope you are well.

The second calendar, from my Guyana days, rests atop a small chest in my closet where I can read the day’s quote when I put away my pajamas and put on a new day. On the page for May 27, a quote from Emily Dickinson says, “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.” Beautifully basic. Some things are so basic, so simply true, they need no explanation. (But you know I can’t pass it up.) Ms. Dickinson explained in one short statement, why we find the distance of day to day life, replacing good intentions. Or, why I can’t get everything done in a day. We mean to do more. We mean to say wonderful things. We mean to encourage the people who have our attention; to cherish those who hold the moments of our lives. And then living happens — a moment at a time — filling our lives with all the wonderful, awful, sincere, silly, precious moments of living.

Emily Dickinson’s statement reminds me of this quote by C.S. Lewis. “The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own’ or one’s ‘real’ life. The truth is of course that what one calls interruptions are precisely one’s real life — the life God is sending one day by day; what one calls one’s ‘real life’ is a phantom of one’s own imagination!” The interruption IS our life. Life — living — is easier to manage when we see all those interruptions as the life we are given. And it certainly is. What your life would be at that moment, without that interruption, is — well, non-existent. Startling — in a good way, or not, we are living our lives a moment at a time. I need to be there in those moments, and not waste a one.

If some of the living, if some of the interruptions, are trials, then the present conditions, according to James, IF we are patient, will make better who we are. “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect works that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing” (James 1: 2-4)NKJV.

Another point that may be made in the first quote is, if I am truly living my life, I have no time to live anyone else’s. I wonder if Ms. Emily was thinking of busybodies.

Standing outside tonight (as I am writing on Sunday night), there is almost a full moon. The dew is heavy; the night creatures are making music beneath a wispy fog. It is tempting to think this is the first time I have ever seen a night just like this. Startling. Take time this week to really take in your living, with all your senses. Your life, given to you, none other exactly like it, full and rich — startling. Taste your cup of coffee in the morning like you’ve never tasted it before.

June 8, from my 1996 calendar: “It is good to praise the Lord…to proclaim your love in the morning and your faithfulness at night.” Psalm 92:1-2 NIV

Amidst the Tangles

02 Monday Jun 2025

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Through my window

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So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. (Matthew 6:28-29) 

Some of us are what you call “nitpickers”, or, critical of minor things that most would not find important. While it is not a complimentary label, we know it’s used figuratively to refer to someone who over-scrutinizes details. I do not like this about myself. As I am growing older, though, I really do not mind being criticized, because I can rest in knowing that at the end of the day, it is my Savior’s opinion which ultimately matters. But as a yard and garden lover, I just cannot let go of wanting my gardens to be pleasing to others. Therefore, I am my own worst critic — picking out the flaws and fussing about them; complaining about not having time nor energy to get it done right; and of course, blaming anybody else for whatever else I can. Having said all that, I will make my point. There is no denying life (and gardens) can get pretty tangled — so tangled, in fact, that we fail to see what IS nicely aligned.

From my clothesline, I turned to walk back toward the house where our sunroom and the intended landscaping around it, are most visible. I caught my breath at the burst of yellow that has popped out recently. It kinda slipped up on me; mostly because I’ve been looking through my inside window into the midst of the flower/tree/weed/vine patch we call the landscaping. From there, I only saw all the work that needs to be done. (So crowded and full of overgrowth, that I may have run the mower just a little ways into the front of it all, just a few days ago.) However, as I turned, on that laundry day, from the back of the lawn, I was pleased to see the ever-thriving Stella D’Oro lilies in full bloom, from one end of the landscaping to the other. I refused to go closer for fear my old nitpicking habit would overcome me.

In life, or in gardens, there is always work to do — especially on myself. As long as I am breathing air, there will be things to learn, to improve, and to share. I have discovered many lessons as I putter around in my gardening — lessons the great Master Gardener placed….well, placed anywhere His willing children will be able to learn. For me it is in the miracle of a resurrected seed, an unfolding bud, the parenting of bluebirds, and in every turn of the spade. The Stellas were reminding me to look at the big picture and enjoy the beauty; to avoid getting bogged down in the details that can be worked out in time, with His help. Those weeds will be there for someone else to contend with after I am gone. “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory…For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18b) While I am here, I just want to share the flowers, whether in the form of encouraging words, time spent, a favor done, or a literal bloom on a stem. It depends on what God has given us to share.

If you look closely at my flowers outside the sunroom, you will also find weeds, vines, tree suckers, over zealous black-eyed Susans, and that hateful grass. But don’t miss the lovely purple garden geranium in the midst of the tangles. Stella D’Oro seems to be shining her light so I can enjoy the beauty of her geranium friend, as well as inspiring me to keep on trying, and to be less tangled up in nitpicking.

I could pick at all the reasons my landscaping and gardens have suffered, but for every negative there is a positive. The rain hindered, but the Stellas thrive in it. My knee replacement hindered, but it gave me time to finish a writing project. Last year’s wayward grass seeds that fell into the flowerbeds are a nuisance, but the lawn is thick and green. The weeds are rough, but they inspire me to stretch my back and exercise my mind as my hands work. There is a strange satisfaction found as one works her way through the tangles to find the beauty in its midst.

Now, I have a bit of news! Several things I’ve mentioned in today’s blog about lessons in gardening, are explored in more detail in “Gifts From the Garden Path: Encouragement Through Our Seasons”. This little book of encouragement in softcover, is available through the online bookstore of my publisher, WestBow Press (https://www.westbowpress.com/en/bookstore.). It can be searched by author’s name, Patricia J. Ward, or the ISBN 9798385047482. The eBook will be available around June 9. To say I am grateful to God for His guidance through this adventure, is an understatement. I pray I will never run completely out of gardening days, but my 71-year-old body says it’s ready for me to do more writing and less digging. I have a few writing projects on the back burner, so I suppose I shall buckle down and focus on one at a time, for as long as the Lord is willing.

Have a wonderful week, taking in the big picture, and giving yourself time for the details to untangle. Have a cup of coffee; and remember, life is too short to skip the cream.

Running From Bears and Hiding in Hope

19 Monday May 2025

Posted by in Faith, MONDAY MUSINGS

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An excellent lesson last evening on fear, and conquering it through the promises of Isaiah 41:10, reminded me of a draft I had started a few years ago. I brought it out and brushed it up, so we will take a break from the “Old Tables and Old Tales” series.

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) ESV

Stifled sobs from my shaking body awakened my husband, who in turn woke me from a nightmare. I couldn’t stop sobbing, even after getting to my feet to shake the troubling images from my head. I went straight for my phone not even caring what time it was. My son answered quickly, and by that time I was in the kitchen where I saw it was only 10:45. But the depth and distress of the dream made it seem like the middle of the night.

The question of where do dreams come from has never been answered to my satisfaction. It seems the mind just goes on random thought tangents with no boundaries. While common sense is sleeping, the little imps of imagination play. Obviously, some dreams are the result of fears – even those we have hidden away. Like dreams, real life can surprise us around any corner with a jack-in-the-box, either scary or funny. It’s only natural to hide from one and hope for the other.

I recall a recurrent nightmare from childhood. Three times at least, over a span of time, I dreamt that I was in my aunt’s house, the square-style house with four rooms all connected without a hall. You can start in the kitchen, go left into the bedroom, turn left into the next bedroom, turn left and enter the living room, then left again into the kitchen where you started. In my dream, there was a wooden highchair in the kitchen. A bear would begin to chase me, through the circuit of those rooms, around and around. Just as it was gaining on me, I would dive under the highchair.  The bear in my dream would stop, sniff around the chair, and the pounding of my heart would wake me. I’m pretty sure I know the fear behind the bear; and the hiding place being in that particular house, had to be that I always knew I was safe and loved there. Love conquers fear.

The gut-wrenching fear that spurred my more recent nightmare is one I believe all parents have in common. We do not want to see our children lose their hope – oh not the hope of Christmas Eve or birthday eve when kids know a fun-filled morning will follow – but true hope, an expectation, a belief that some yet unseen, good thing can and will happen. As adults we have seen enough ice-cream cones plop, to make us guard our hope. We’ve had earthly plans and hopes fall through, and we’ve also seen promises from God fulfilled as He held our world together. This is our hope to keep on trying. That’s what we want for our children isn’t it; to experience enough good so that good becomes their expectation. And to know their hope is tethered to the sure promises of God.

I believe the incidence of mental illness, suicide, and physical ailments are directly related to the loss of hope – hope that there is something, someone, greater than this shaky world. The natural tendency is to hope in this world’s goods and accomplishments, because that’s where we started as children, when we thought hope was in wishes. With maturity, the hopes and losses get bigger. Love, friendship, trust – the big ticket items –  hurt much more if lost, than getting the wrong Barbie, or having your birthday party rained out. I remember my Mama telling me it was so much easier to treat my skinned knee with a bandaid and a kiss, than to treat my heart aches. I didn’t appreciate that until I had children of my own. After enough bumps and bruises from this world, we gain appreciation for stability – yoked, tethered, and anchored to our true and living God – all-knowing, unmoving, and strong enough to stop the bears that cause our fear. And we want to see our young realize this true hope – the strengthening, helping, upholding hand of God. (Isaiah 41:10)

What we never want to see as they grow up, is one slap, one punch, one blow after another, until they don’t feel they can get up. We want them to keep being excited about life; to know that good overrules evil, and right is never wrong. We want to see the gleam in their eyes until we close ours the final time. Their happiness is more important to us than our own. That is why we must, MUST show them the hope that never fails. We must take the time to talk our God knowledge out loud, to show them real hope lives, and it sure as shootin’ ain’t in the shifting times we’re living! God gave us a world of beauty, fun, friends and abilities; but more than that, He has promised that no matter how this world goes, His children have Him walking them through it all.

I’ll wake up one morning, far from those nightmares, where fears are no more. No sobbing, no shaking, no heartaches and no dashed hopes. I know this because I have read God’s promises, along with the proof of His faithfulness. No matter how much we have now, we will never have it all, until we rest in the Lord. Until then, nothing in this life is certain. We’ll keep running from room to room until the bear dies and the house is turned over to God.  I thought I had turned my fears over to God, but apparently some still simmered in the background, producing bad dreams of lost hope. If my hope is really in the Lord, I won’t be hiding in fear with my heart pounding, but hidden in hope, away from fear’s chase, secure in Jesus Christ.

So, who is the bigger giant here? Is it hope, or is it fear?

Fear is big that is for sure! But hope stands higher as the cure

Fear chases like an angry bear. Hope is the rock that seals his lair.

Fear is strong, but stronger yet, is the hand of God – the help we get.

Fear can slap you to the ground, Hope in the Lord will make you sound.

Fear is daring, I can’t deny. But for our hope the Savior died.

My first favorite verse of scripture was Isaiah 40:31. But verse 30 includes our youth, so I have amended my favorite to include both verses. I love my children, and my nieces and nephews so much; and I pray their fears are conquered, their hope in this life realized, and their true hope in the Lord to be more than they dared ever dream.

“Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:30-31) ESV

A Hebrew lexicon explanation of “but those who wait” is the word “Qavah” meaning “to wait, look for, hope, expect”. (Strong’s Hebrew 6960)  My prayer is that we, all generations, will hope in the Lord, that we will run, walk, and soar with the eagles.

The Round Table: Part 4 in “Old Tables and Old Times”

12 Monday May 2025

Posted by in Children, Family, MONDAY MUSINGS

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Roundtable discussions “are informal gatherings characterized by equal participation, active listening, and the exchange of ideas…roundtables encourage a more open and interactive dialogue, often facilitated by a moderator.” That’s what the internet says. In a child’s world, it is an endless sphere of participation (play-like or real), activity (of reaching, climbing, circling), and interactive ideas (imagination as troops and trucks run their courses of construction and destruction).

As the 1960s were ending, people were starting to see the value in antiques. Not museum people with historical antiques – regular Joes who had the new age, moderate-income, furnishings of the 50s and 60s. Such was the time when my mother was led to an auction by her friend whose son had gone into the “antique business”. Looking for old gems hidden by dust and paint, in need of some repair perhaps, became the weekend hobby for many. Sadly, folks were realizing grandparents had given up real value for light weight, inexpensive furnishings. In my family’s case, fires had taken most of the keepers, and the thought of finding something similar, was enticing. One find for my mother and her friend that day, was a sizable table covered with what we called antiquing, which was enamel paint covered by a dark glaze. Covered in, I believe, early 70s green, with a small chip out of one hinged area, was a coffee table with leaves dropped to the floor, which when raised, made a complete circle. A drawer in each end made the table even more useful. Mama bought it. And the seven grandchildren of her future benefitted from the purchase in the many decades to follow. Her great grandchildren, as well as friends, continued to find pleasure in the playground of the roundtable world. I am so thankful the table was saved from the fire that took my parents’ home in 1978.

Before the round table went to live at my parents’ house, her friend had her son to “strip and refinish” it. This brought out the beautiful solid maple finish of its original state, which is still its condition today – plus the many scratches, dents and wear of four generations since then. I believe my son was the first to put a scratch in Granny’s lovely table, with a toy (seems like it was one of those little silver-colored pistols, but could easily have been one of the hundreds of little animals that have trekked the terrain of the table land; he thinks it was his Hot Wheels racing). My daughter stashed “office papers” and crayons in the drawers as she opened and closed them a thousand times in her world of teaching and office work.

Next came my sister’s first child, a girl, who I am told, turned a long handled bell (another of Mama’s collections) upside down and hammered it into the table top several times. Sister’s second child, a boy, added his own marks of character, playing many sessions of Old Maid; as well as adding his sons (you see the younger one on the table in the photo above), to the activity of his Nanny Betty’s/Aunt Trisha’s table. I recall my brother’s first daughter especially enjoying the Christmas trinkets and music boxes Granny placed on the table. By the time he had more children coming along, Mama had passed the drop-leaf table on to me, and redecorated her living room. How in the world did she have the courage to place a new glass-topped table at child level? Surprisingly, it did survive. OH! That’s right, it wasn’t a round table. Far less activity could be had with four corners in the way, a smaller surface, and – like the glass-bottomed look-out towers – who can put their weight on something that looks invisible?

In my house the old drop-leaf round table continued to supply new ground for race cars, farm equipment, horse racing, army battles, board games, play-doh creativity, coloring and painting, checkers, and climbing in general. Six of my great nieces and nephews have made their own history of discoveries, battles, and masterpieces on the round table. Our friend ‘little man Ryan’ had his own activity for a short while before potty training, but we will just leave it at that. He also drove Match Box cars around and around that table, giving me great pleasure as my mother’s table continued making happy days for those we love.

I see the days of discovery for our round table coming to a close. I do hope the “informal gatherings characterized by equal participation, active listening, and the exchange of ideas” continues over this, as well as all our tables, for years to come. But it was the endless imagination of those tots who made this table so precious to me. Complete with its dents and dings, one drawer now out of function, and one detached slide-out leg that holds the leaf on that side, I have plans for repair and passing it on to someone who appreciates solid value. It is truly vintage now, and due to age, likely could soon be antique, but surely has some good days ahead in her. She now holds books, pens, and the trappings of an avid John Deere man. She comfortably holds the weight of great nephews; she doesn’t mind our feet being propped upon her, nor popcorn, coffee cups, and sippy cups.

Well, my coffee has grown cold but I have enjoyed my short trip back over the 55 or so years since my mother brought the round table home. Her own nieces and nephews will testify that she had a roundtable approach to life that carried over into the grandchildren years. If she loved anything, it was children and watching them learn. Imagination spurs learning and she was delighted to turn her house over to them to grow and learn all they could. Her love surrounded them as they surrounded the table; her guidance encouraged them as they found acceptance and inspiration to be their best. I look at the softly curved feet of the table, the scratches and dents, the missing pieces; and I long to see a world that is as willing to sacrifice parts of itself for the good of others; a world that is strong for its children and softly holds them when they need it; a world like its Creator intended it to be.

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2) NKJV

Admire the Tinsel – Crave the Ordinary

19 Monday Dec 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections

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And Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord,”

Luke 1:46 NKJV

What delight I have in the average! The ordinary and mundane sparkle like a long ago memory hanging on the Christmas tree. Call me crazy, but I have always been comforted in a way, by the pauses I take to say to myself, “ok, this or that will turn out alright because I’m average; those rare things don’t happen to average folk”. As naive and unrealistic as it is, it has just been a thing I like to think, all my life. Interestingly, Mary the mother of Jesus, considered her lowly and ordinary existence a reason to praise God for the extraordinary! This post isn’t about Mary, but I dearly love the verse, and surrounding scripture showing us how humbly Mary magnified the Lord for her unique, one time ever, blessed experience. I believe Mary was relieved to find her ordinary self was just what God needed to work His wonder, and she did not feel pressured to be more.

Recently I have found my thoughts circling around the joy of ordinary. It’s a wonder I found my thoughts at all, but that is beside the point. The more abnormal, or out-of-the-ordinary things have become lately, the more I appreciate the mundane normal state of things. Ebb and flow, nice and easy, calm waters; yes, let me live there. I’m thinking we all put our own lives under the microscope occasionally to verify our own ills and isms. There we decide whether we are average or not. We see the tarnished tinsel, the interruptions, the rippled surfaces, but there is always, always, room to say, “wow, it could’ve been so much worse”. Or perhaps not, but I have not been in those rare life-altering situations where I really couldn’t say it. That, to me, is a comfort, and a blessing. Though I have not been so sheltered as to never know tragedy, as an average person, it was not to be the end of me.

Grandma Wilkins’ arrangement

Then there are the unusual times when ‘exciting, awesome, or amazing’ descriptors are needed for the days jazzed up with extra helpings of out-of-the-ordinary. Those are our aha moments; our fantastic experiences. We can all use more glitz and glitter – at times. But truthfully, at my age, it is quite tiring to plan and carry out those amazing times. A little bit goes a long way, and then I’m so ready for the usual and mundane. You know why we decorate so early now? It is because the few days of putting up a tree and wreaths and candles and snowmen and Santa Clauses requires a few weeks of recuperation before we can even think of taking it all back down again. I recall when our only Christmas decoration was the tree wrapped in lights, glass balls and silver icicles. It was really doodied up when Mama added an arrangement to the dining room table. Grandma and Grandpa put their little arrangement on the console television cabinet. Though it’s now dusty, dull and dinky, I still have it; a simply beautiful memory.

Surgeries, illness, utility calamities (even our appliances suffered from Covid in 2020-21) and other common, but unexpected bumps in the road are what keep us so incredibly thankful for the days of no incidence; the days of nothing to tell, nothing to sweat, nothing to tug a special plea to God on our own behalf. The best part of those times, is how much more I can focus on praying for all those around me who were not so fortunate as to have a mundane, dull day.

From an average family of five, with average incomes (eventually) and average education and abilities, I found the turbulent times bearable by the thought process I’ve explained above – that since I am average, this is all normal. Christmas would still come because I had an above average mother who made sure it did. Food would still be on the table because I was blessed with parents who had good work ethics. The wheels would roll, the lights would come on and the booboos would heal, regardless of the storms brewing. I’ve grown up now and realize none of that was average. Rather, it was so incredibly blessed that tears form as I think of how to adequately express it.

This Christmas week I am thinking of all the children who find life so hard and cold that there is no normal, no average, no peaceful thinking. No warm beds, breakfast nor hands to gently wipe their tears. Dear God, take some of my average from my life and use it to soften those little souls.

A few weeks ago the news spoke of a child who had suffered in ways unmentionable, and all I could do was sit and sob for her. I do so now even, realizing hers is not the only case in our world. I do not intend this to be a depressing post, as there are more than enough seeds in the world already for planting heartache and feeling down. I suppose what I do want to relay, is how extremely satisfied we ought to be when we have a most usual, common day. The gratitude and pleasure well up in me just to be able to look out the window at gifts of red Nandina berries and green wheat sitting dormant through the winter. As much as I want to understand depression and knowing it is very real, it is just beyond my average ability to grasp how one cannot look into God’s beautiful nature – both that of His workmanship and His person – and be lifted out of the darkness into the light of a beautiful ordinary day.

For the past several weeks, especially remembering last December and January, I have struggled with worrisome thoughts myself, but for every discouraged feeling, there have come more amazing devotionals from God’s word, encouragement from friends and family, gifts of healing and hope for better tomorrows. When you are a child of the King (Lord Jesus); when you have super hero friends and family members; or when you have weeks on end of doing the same thing, seeming to roll one into another, count yourself way above average. It’s okay to tell yourself it’s all average, so you do not live in a bubble of expectation, thus the ups and downs do not burst your bubble; but never forget how special it is, and to be on-your-knees-thankful for the ordinary.

 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.”

James 1:17 NKJV

Have a blessed, ordinary, Merry Christmas! Love, Trisha

Sea Creatures – Show Time!

17 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Ocean View

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Number Four in the “Ocean View” series.

I’m having fun reliving our mini trip to the ocean, reading over notes I made while there. I hope you enjoy the view from my beach chair. And I hope my husband is still speaking to me after this one😁.

We hit the road with no particular expectations; simply a prayer for safety. I sought only the sweet breath of the ocean; to be quiet, still, and to receive the gift of peace I had discovered in years past, peace I found in the solitude as I looked out over the expanse, forgetting the world at my elbows. I asked for nothing more, except to hope the trip would be good for my sidekick too. I was about to be reminded of God’s way of presenting gifts beyond our imagination, in the here and now. Before your eyebrows fuse in that position, I ask, would we pray for daily provisions if we did not believe good gifts are part of this life, as well as life in eternity? Let me unwrap the gift of just one day we received on the beach at Seaside.

“…And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters…Then God said, ‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.’…and the gathering together of the waters He called Seas. And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1: 2b, 6, 10b)

So, if I read that correctly, waters were there on the second day, before there was land on the third day. And God saw that it was good. By the fifth day the seas and heavens were so pleasing they were given life to inhabit them. (“Then God said, ‘Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the face of the firmament of the heavens.‘ ” Genesis 1:20) Inconceivable – to us, but who are we? A god who can make all creatures great and small to inhabit earth, water, and air, would have no problem at all preparing their habitation.

Did you realize (I didn’t until now) that it was the sea life and birds of the air who were first “blessed” by God! It says so in verse 22. That’s the first recorded time of God blessing His creation. And here we were, blessed, in front row seats to witness one little slice of that creation. It seemed they were showing up and showing out just for us, as if they knew our time to be there was short, Gary’s endurance was limited, and the flies would come biting tomorrow. Yes, Day one of our beach trip, Gary’s first ever, was nothing short of a gift. ON with the show…

Now I know most of you have experienced so much more, our trip pales to a ghost in comparison. We didn’t swim with the dolphins, nor go snorkeling with the undersea life, but I assure you we were extraordinarily entertained by this show rehearsed for thousands of years. From our first step into the crystal clear water with ghost crabs the size of a large hand, to the larger than life sunset, we enjoyed one new thing after another. We laughed at the tiny lightening-quick sand crabs popping in and out of the sand as the soft gray and white gulls did their best to grab them in their hide and seek game. We watched schools of small slender fish at the waters edge, like synchronized swimmers performing a routine. First this way, then reverse, that way, and back again, until they danced out of the spotlight.

As usual, there were a few jellyfish here and there, but I’d never seen one being carried in a sand pail, it’s gelatinous excess spilling over the sides of the child’s pail. One look at a youngster rubbing his leg told us the jellyfish had been a bad sport and now faced the consequences as it was carried away to be buried in the sand. Ugh.

While we didn’t swim with dolphins, they were certainly on parade! At first it was a barely recognizable image of forms leaping on the horizon. Soon another group, or the same, I have no idea, had come closer, leaping, arching, splashing to our pleasure! I squealed like a kid on Christmas morning with a coveted new toy. A third time, even nearer, the show stopping acrobats were between us and a young man on a paddle board who had gone farther out than these dolphins! Arms all along the beach were pointing out to sea and there was a congregational “whoa!” What a thrill for me to see, but even more so, that they came to play for a 70 year old who’d never even seen the Gulf before. HIs only other ocean view had been a chilly shore in Maine years ago. I had by now, begun to explain to him this day was not the usual but a gift – perfect weather, no annoyances and sea life abundant.

After a while of admiring the natural beauty, I had to remind my husband this was not the mall. People-watching would not be good for his health. With tongue in cheek, I say there were more creatures than jellyfish jiggling on the beach. After wearing a towel over his head for a few minutes, he decided to watch his feet turn red and play games with the gulls. Live and learn. After a short time of quiet I opened my eyes to find gulls gathering a bit too closely. I had cautioned him regarding these gluttonous feathered friends, but alas, I caught him with his hand in the lunch bag, pulling out pretzels to break and toss. (I know, I know. But I mean, when a man so diligently directs his vision per wife’s instruction, who’s going to scold?) One gull quickly became three or four, looking at him with expectant “don’t stop now” expressions. We laughed as each one grabbed a piece of pretzel, chop stick-style and ran toward the water just in case this land lubber wanted his treats back.

The final layer of gift wrap to reveal our pleasure of the day, came in the midst of a growing crowd off to our left. I had become quite comfortable drying in my sunny chair, so Gary eased off in the direction of the ado, ready to snap a picture of whatever the people were following. There was from my vantage point a shadowy figure slowly moving about 15 to 20 feet off shore, being followed by the crowd. I thought perhaps a large fish, or small dolphin, had floated to shore and I did not want to see a dead one. Just as I realized it was moving intentionally, it swam out of sight and the crowd dispersed. Before Gary returned, I asked our neighbors, the Markeys (from last week’s post), what had been the attraction, and to my dismay, they reported A LARGE SEA TURTLE! Fish fur! Of all the times to sit on my butt! I was happy though that Gary was privileged to see it and his camera caught just the edge of it from where he stood. My true concern was possibly this wonder of a creature had thought it to be time and place to come ashore and lay her eggs, then was frightened away. We were not graced by her presence again.

Millions of people over the years have been entertained and impressed by natural wonders we may just take for granted. But what a gift; and as any of us can truly say, “You did this all for me?! Awwww, thank you! ” I love the lyrics to “Who Shall Stand Before the King” (R. J. Stevens Music, LLC) It is taken from Psalm 24, which begins, “The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein. For He has founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the waters.” Who indeed can stand before the King; I am not worthy. But I have stood before his creation, received the gift, at peace, amazed, and grateful. Trisha

The edge of our sea turtle, upper left corner.

A Little Birdie Told Me

11 Monday Apr 2022

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS

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Happy soggy Monday (again!) to you. Yesterday was a most perfect day with warm breezes and bright sunshine, perhaps our first this year. Isn’t it strange what a few hours can do to not only the weather, but our moods as well? As I was racing to complete my Monday “must-do” list in hopes of reaching the flower bed before the rain, I was about to start complaining over this weather of ours. We’d already had a light morning mist, but the breeze was mild and I had visions of easy picking – those weeds would just pop right out for me if – IF – I could just get out there before it rained any more. Ha! Not today. And the farmers would say, “flower beds? Seriously? Try making a living in this rain!” I know; I’m married to one.

Scowling toward the darkening window of rain drops, I noticed a beautiful Ruby-throated sipping at our Yoshino cherry tree, our first hummingbird of the year! Seemingly oblivious to the clouds and rain, he was enjoying the provision of sweet nectar in nature. The world was right again for me – Spring is going to happen regardless of the timing, and certainly without regard to my mood! From there I moved to another window, and lo and behold, our dogwood had unfolded lovely little red petals just to cheer the day. I was reminded of rebirth, new growth, resurrection. And so many blessings!

Just yesterday the back yard was filled with songbirds; bluebirds swooping from tree limbs to clothesline; black shiny martins soaring from their apartments to the electrical lines, and strawberry heads of finches bobbing and darting from limb to lawn. The combined chorus of all seemed to be singing the praises of their Maker. Green wheat growing alongside our lawn was rippling in the breeze like ocean waves and as I closed my eyes, the breeze gently rocked my hammock. I felt deeply ashamed of recent moodiness over missed vacations, knowing many desired destinations will never be realized. To be honest, I feel I couldn’t be away from all this anyway – awakening, spring time, rebirth – I don’t want to miss a thing!

Previous years’ hard work has yielded much new growth of fresh green leaves, tender shoots of hostas, iris and peonies, to name a few, just waiting for their bloom time when they will lift faces upward and give honor to their Creator. With so much energy emerging all around, how can I allow anything to put me down? Silly me, look at the lilies of the field, the raven, all so cared for by God and thriving with no concern for themselves at all! (Luke 12:24) “Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds?”

Bloom where you’re planted. Seek nurture in nature. Be anxious for nothing, (Philippians 4:6). God is good, all the time.

Winter ‘Dull-drums’

29 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by in Life, Through my window

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The scul-uff, scul-uff, scul-uff of my house shoes is getting on my nerves, as is the beyond dry condition of my skin and hair. I am dulled by naps and headaches and ridiculous television shows, and so tired of trying to focus my eyes for anything useful. Winter doldrums are not my normal; but then what has been normal for the past couple years? Now that I am feeling ornery enough to complain, I do see light at the end of the tunnel. The Covid ‘fog’ is lifting; also the aura that surrounds the loss of a loved one is finding its place a few paces away from the immediate needs of everyday living. And for every complaint I have just uttered, I enjoy a dozen blessings. So the good does not nullify the bad, it just makes it easier to bear. The blessings do not blind us to the ills; the ills illuminate the blessings.

I rise up in the morning, thanking God the sunrise did not get lost; that I can see, and walk and hear, and feel the freezing air and the warm house. I thank God for everything from hot coffee to holly berries. I thank Him for the time we have had with loved ones; brief or extended, the time is a gift. I’ve spoken gratitude for modern medicine and vaccine and those who act out of compassion, or just passion, to accomplish better lives for us all. From dear friends to my fur baby, from my husband to my children to the sister my husband loves to taunt, our people are a blessing!

I complained this morning about a hawk who has just about left us without song birds, and watching those birds was my favorite winter pastime. A couple hours later a beautiful pair of cardinals visited the bird feeder. What a gift! I wouldn’t have appreciated this treat quite as much if not for the gap of time our feeders have sat lonely.

When your heart aches, or your earth quakes, consider the opposite. Likely there is something in contrast for which you have been thankful; something to hope for and plan simply because you are alive. The lonely times are real, and I hope brief. Soon life rekindles and revisits and the birds will return to the feeder.

“ Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” (Matthew 6:26 NKJV)

If I Were A Christmas Tree…

24 Friday Dec 2021

Posted by in Reflections

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“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17 (NKJV)

It is Christmas Eve morning, predawn, as I sip coffee in the glow of our Christmas tree. I wonder, will I get it all done in time to make more happy memories for my loved ones. Menus are ready for ingredients I’ve stowed away for weeks and I’m getting the usual anticipation jitters that I’ve forgotten something. There’s baking, arranging and cleaning to be done, but for now the house is quiet with sleep except for the snoring of my little lap dog. A star-lit sky is about to welcome dawn, and as I gaze upon our tree ornaments, I recognize the beauty of reflection.

A decorated tree is pretty by daylight, but the magic happens when the little white lights are glowing, and there in the dark, each ornament twinkles with life. They reflect memories of love and fun. In the stillness, my tree reflects the joys I received from each person who’s given these keepsakes. A mama bear reads to her baby bear by the tree lamp’s glow as she has since 1999. Thirteen little Hallmark ornaments are as happy as the day I received each one a year at a time, and I remember the precious little girl, and her mom who brought them to my door each year. My little clothespin ponies have shiny faces reflecting the love with which they were sent from West Virginia. Many snowmen from friends and family are dazzling as they dance in the lights and I reflect on the occasions and names of each one given. Flying cardinals and sitting cardinals reflect my mother’s love as well as that of those who’ve added to the collection, and the love they learned from her. Glass orbs with meaningful words twinkle and never grow old.

If I were a Christmas tree, would I reflect the true light, the Giver of all good and perfect gifts? Would God’s love, as He sent His Word to become the flesh and blood baby Jesus, glow in my life? Would I shine with the love Christ demonstrated for us as He gave the ultimate gift? If I were a Christmas tree, would I make others happy?

I’m sure the history of the Christmas tree is interesting, but honestly we don’t care. What it is to me, as it was to my parents, for as long as I can remember, is a place to store gifts we give each other. Most importantly, it is where the adornments of our Christmases are displayed; a first, someone’s last, treasured gifts, fond vacation memories, favorite things…all reflecting happy times and warming our hearts.

One of the first things I thought of in the wake of December’s rare tornado, was so many would have had their own ornaments out, vulnerable to destruction, and my heart ached for them. Life IS vulnerable; treasure it. My prayer for those folks is they are able to hold the happy memories in their hearts and keep making new ones.

Merry Christmas! In the midst of all life’s common and uncommon difficulties, may you make many warm memories – ones that reflect the joys in your life and entice others to seek the joy of the true Light.

I

The Fall Dance

27 Monday Sep 2021

Posted by in Nature, Poetry

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It is finally here! Autumn – my autumn, so full of sensory stimulation that I can for the first time in a long while, just be. Just. Be. Sitting still and soaking it all in; talking aloud to the sky, trees, or the Creator of it all, or not talking at all. Psalm 46:10 allows me to, as the inspired word from God not only says be still, but to acknowledge Him in the stillness. Stop to meditate on God’s creative hand, His wisdom and goodness.
This season pushes my buttons; to start projects, stare at nature, but most of all to write. So, unable to hold myself back here is a poem I wrote last year, as I try in vain to capture some of this amazing season’s music, and dance along with it.

          The Fall Dance

From the liquid blue sky as clear as glass, to the star flower tucked beneath the autumn grass;

From the sweet song of morning birds, and their return before sundown, to the splash and laugh of the bluebirds’ bath, a very happy sound;

From the dusty fuzzy pods in fields of  tan soybeans, to the new red berries of the Washington Hawthorn tree.

From the crimson Sumac along the fence row, to the purple wildflowers the butterflies own;

From the welcome relief of a cooling breeze as it brushes and flirts with the rustling leaves,

To the pumpkins piled high and chrysanthemums gold; this blessing called Autumn is a sight – a sound – a touch to behold!

Autumn takes her time waltzing into view, enjoying the stage, for her dances are few.

Welcome Fall Y’all